The Good Master
by PeacefulCompassion
Summary: Harry suffered throughout his entire childhood, not only neglect at the hands of his relatives but also the worst types of suffering possible. However, despite his pain, he refused the ultimate offer from Voldemort – the offer of power, revenge, and hatred. What implications could this have for the Wizarding World, in which hatred abounds? Abused Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys! So I'm a novice writer, but I like fanfiction and want to try my hand at it. I scouted a bit before I decided on what to write about, so some parts of my story aren't really original. However, I've read so much fanfiction that all the ideas kinda bunch together, and I can't remember which stories the ideas came from to give them credit. My sincere apologies to all those creative writers who have given me inspiration.**

**Summary: Harry has suffered throughout his entire childhood, not only neglect at the hands of his relatives but also the worst types of suffering possible. However, despite his pain, he refused the ultimate offer from Voldemort – the offer of power, revenge, and hatred. What implications could this have for the Wizarding World?**

**Warnings: Abuse, hints of sexual abuse, language…**

**Also, this chapter has not been Beta'd. Um, so I'm searching for maybe three Betas? Anybody?**

"_Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility_

_But through greatness of mind."_

_-Aristotle_

"_Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."_

_-Khalil Gibran_

Chapter One: Voldemort's Offer

Eight years.

Harry's hands clenched against the wall, his tiny frame trembling. A crack sounded through the air.

Eight miserable years.

Harry's back arched. However, he bit his lower lip to prevent himself from crying out, his eyes shut tight in pain as another stripe was added to his back. His muscles were tight as he let out a small gasp. Tears escaped down his cheeks.

Silence was a large part of Harry's life. It was what the Dursleys drilled into him. When facing pain, which he did on a daily basis, he should just grit his teeth and bear it. Or else, his voice might annoy the person giving him pain.

His breaths were coming out in short pants, and he leaned his head against the wall, feeling the world spin slightly. He must not collapse or lose consciousness, or his uncle would double his punishment. A warm liquid was trickling down his back and sides.

"Freak!" spat Vernon as he pulled his arm back for another lash, his hand on the handle of a thin switch. "Worthless boy!"

Harry had heard that often – every day of his life in fact, and he believed it, too. He was a stupid, worthless freak. He tried his best in everything he did, but it amounted to nothing. His grades were meaningless. His efforts were meaningless. Sometimes he wondered if his life was meaningless as well.

"We're done, boy. Do you have something to say?" Vernon snarled.

Harry slid down to his knees and lowered his head, saying softly, "Thank you, sir, for punishing me and teaching me my place. I will do better not to break anything next time."

"Good." His uncle went away then, looking significantly happier than he had a half an hour ago when his face turned purple with rage at Harry breaking a coffee mug.

Harry couldn't even explain how he had broken it. He had been stressed about things going on at school, but that didn't explain how the entire mug shattered when he had only been holding the handle. It got his uncle into a flying rage. Sighing slightly, he stood up unsteadily to go to the bathroom. It was like a routine for him now to treat his wounds.

His reflection in the bathroom mirror would scare and invoke the compassion and sympathy of anyone who happened to see it – anyone except the Dursleys of course. His dark, messy hair was dripping with sweat from him undergoing his "punishment," and his back was a pattern of crisscrossed bloody stripes. His pale skin stretched over his bones, and his hollow cheeks made his thin face appear even thinner. His green eyes were lifeless and deathlike. Life had not been kind on the young boy.

Harry was quick to wrap up his wounds. It was a small respite for him that the Dursleys did not begrudge him their store of bandages. Although this was most likely due to his aunt's disgust at bodily fluids dripping onto her precious floors.

When he came out of the bathroom, his aunt immediately set him to the task of weeding the garden. "And don't you dare pull out anything other than the weeds," she had snarled.

Harry would never have dared. As he knelt in the garden, pulling up the plants that annoyed his aunt, he couldn't help but made a connection between him and the weeds. He felt sympathy for the things. They were unwanted, just like him. They were both simply _things _that his relatives wanted to get rid of.

In the late spring afternoon, despite the heat, Harry found weeding relaxing – it gave him a chance to get out of the house, away from his relatives. However, his relaxation was about to be interrupted.

"Kick it again! Kick it again!"

Harry looked up, his lifeless eyes searching for the source of the yelling. On the other side of the road, Dudley and his group of bullies were laughing as they were doing _something. _Harry pulled off his glasses and wiped the dirt off them before putting them on again. What he saw pulled at his heartstrings.

Dudley was kicking a fallen puppy.

Harry turned away, feeling guilt as he did so. He didn't want to get in Dudley's way if he could avoid it. However…

"It's so stupid! I can't believe it actually came when you pretended to give it some food!"

"It won't be so stupid after this! Teach it a lesson, Dud!"

"Yeah, teach it a lesson!"

Harry winced when he heard the puppy yelped after a particularly hard kick from Dudley. How many times had he been in that puppy's place? With no one standing up for him? They had always been too scared of Dudley and his gang. How many times had he hoped for relief from the abuse and the beatings and received none because no one was there to step in? Why did his chest hurt so much? Why was he feeling so guilty over this? No one ever stood up for him…why should he care that another was being hurt?

"Hey, we should whack it with sticks!"

"My brother has a baseball bat," Malcolm suggested.

"Go get it then!"

Harry widened his eyes. But he did care…although his self-preservation told him otherwise. That animal didn't deserve to get hurt, especially not so cruelly. He trembled. It was practically suicide for him if he tried to stop Dudley. But…such a helpless creature…His internal argument was cut short when he saw Malcolm returning with a baseball bat and Dudley holding it to test it. It was rather big and heavy for an eight-year-old, but when it came to cruelty, Dudley could do anything when he set his mind to it. Horrified, without further thinking, Harry ran across the road and towards the gang. He burst through the circle they had formed around the puppy, surprising Piers and Malcolm, and stood in front of the animal, his arms stretched out. "Don't hurt him!" he cried.

All of them were startled before Dudley pulled himself together and pushed his smaller cousin roughly. "Out of the way, Potter! Or we'll beat you up!" He raised the baseball bat above his head to swing it down on the puppy.

Harry scrambled to cover the animal with his body, pulling his own arms up to cover his head. He gasped in pain when the wood connected with his back, aggravating the wounds he had received from Vernon earlier that day.

"I told you to move!" Dudley said angrily.

Harry barely had any time to prepare himself before Dudley began raining down blows on him in anger. He clenched his teeth, tears pouring down his face as his body took blow after blow. When he finally could take no more, he collapsed – to the side so as not to fall on the puppy he was shielding. His back to their abusers, he held the puppy close to his chest, his arm wrapping itself around it to protect it.

Dudley's face was red from the exertion of lifting and swinging the baseball bat, and so he finally threw the bat to the ground and snarled, "Let's go. He's boring."

Relief washed over Harry. Finally…His entire body hurt, and he couldn't move…He felt something struggling in his arms, and with all his strength, he lifted his arm to let the puppy out, wincing at the pain that coursed through his body. The puppy limped out of his arms, and Harry felt his heart broke. Of course…the puppy was leaving…and it would probably never trust a human again. Harry closed his eyes. He was worthless, and therefore, his efforts must be worthless. No matter what he did, nothing ever came out good. He couldn't even gain the puppy's trust even though he protected it…

Harry opened his eyes wide in surprise when he felt a small lick on his face.

The puppy was looking down at him into his eyes. Then it let out a whine before it continued to lick up his tears. After it finished, it limped over to Harry's arm, which was hurting from shielding it from Dudley's blows, and began to lick it.

Tears fell from Harry's eyes. It was licking his wounds, giving him comfort in the best way it knew how. It was…the first time someone thanked him so sincerely, and it touched him. With a bit of effort, he raised his hand and reached out to the puppy, petting it gently on the head. He smiled when it licked his hand and leaned into his touch. "Come here," he whispered as it curled up under his arm. "You're hurt, too. Let's…let's just rest, okay?"

Perhaps…his life wasn't so meaningless after all.

…

After that incident, Harry had his first friend. The puppy turned out to be a German Shepherd, and it was extremely loyal to him. Every late afternoon, when Harry would finish with his chores and take a break at the nearby playground, the puppy would wait for him there. It gave him something to look forward to, and for the first time in a long time, life returned to Harry's eyes. And eventually, he gave his friend a name – Riley. It was a simple name, but Harry thought it suited his friend.

Riley grew in size quickly, and by the time summer was over, he was fairly large, weighing almost sixty pounds. No longer fearing Dudley and his gang, the dog accompanied Harry home and to school often. Remembering Dudley's cruelty, he developed a strong aggression whenever Dudley tried to come near Harry. Although he would have barely reached Vernon's lower thigh at this age, he was more than enough intimidating for Dudley and his gang, barking and snarling whenever they're near and once even tackling Malcolm when he tried to grab Harry. In all cases though, whenever Harry called his name, he stopped and obeyed.

The only unfortunate thing is that Dudley would complain about Riley to his dad, and Harry would end up being punished for "his dog's behavior."

However, Harry saw nothing wrong with Riley's behavior. He was only being protective. He was also extremely intelligent – even for his breed, and Harry had almost no problems teaching him commands. Overall, Harry was very fond of and happy with his new friend.

One day, however, everything he had ever known would come to change.

Harry was at the park, running across it, chasing and playing with Riley. He had to admit – the German Shepherd was one active dog. After a while, he bent over his knees, panting from exertion…with his back aching and smarting from his beating before he came, but he was happier than he had been for a long time. He sat down on the grass and waited for Riley to run over before petting it on the head. "Sorry, Riley, I don't have as much energy as you do."

And Riley responded by giving his hand a small lick, eliciting a laugh from Harry.

Harry hugged him and then lay back on the grass. "You want to walk with me back, Riley? My aunt and uncle would throw a fit if I'm not back in time to make dinner."

Riley lay down next to him and gave a small whine.

Harry smiled and scratched him under the jaw, which caused his tail to wag happily. "I'm sorry, Riley. I really am, but I can't play with you all day. I would love to be here with you, but the Dursleys…they wouldn't like that." He frowned and looked up at the sky. "I've been living with them since forever. I don't even remember my parents, who died in a car crash when I was really small. Uncle Vernon always said I'm not grateful to him for taking me under his roof, but I…Don't tell anyone I told you this, Riley, but I don't think they're very nice people."

Riley laid his head on Harry's chest as if to say – _Whatever secret you tell me, I will keep it with me to the grave. Besides, I agree with you._

Harry laid his hand on Riley's head. "I'm glad to have you for a friend. I really am. You're the only one who doesn't remind me that I'm worthless every day because I did the right thing in protecting you that day." He closed his eyes. "I just wish…I'd be taken away from that place."

"_Harry…Potter…"_

Harry sat up, looking around for the source of the sound. It was a rather whispery, raspy voice. However, it was calling his name, and that alone sparked enough of his curiosity to crowd out his fear and caution. It wasn't often that someone called him out.

However, Riley's head was low, his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth in a snarl.

"_Come here, boy…"_

Harry stood up and walked towards the sound. Before he could get very far though, Riley jumped in front of him, barking. Harry jumped in surprise. "Riley, what's wrong?" The dog showed no sign of back down, and whenever Harry tried to go around him towards the source of the sound, he would jump in front of him to block his way again. Harry finally realized what it had been trying to do and knelt down, petting it on the head. "It's okay, Riley. I'll be careful. Promise."

Riley was still adamant against letting Harry pass.

"_Come here…Harry…Potter…Ignore the dog…"_

The last statement set Harry on edge. Something just…wasn't right. He turned to Riley. "It's really dangerous, isn't it? You knew, didn't you?"

Riley whined and then grabbed the edge of Harry's oversized shirt with his teeth, pulling him away from the source of the voice.

"_I will not hurt you, boy…I merely wish to speak to you…and make an offer…"_

"Wait a second, Riley," Harry said, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Who are you?" he said towards the source of the voice. "Can you show yourself?"

"_My name is not important…at least at this point in time…It is not possible for me to show you myself, for I am not…physical."_

"So you're a ghost?" Harry asked, still ignoring the persistent tug on his shirt.

"_Of a sort. More of a spirit. I am the manifestation of power and immortality themselves."_

Harry had no idea what that meant, but he couldn't help but ask, "So what did you want to speak to me about?"

"_I know you, boy…abused, neglected, starved by your relatives, those who were supposed to love you…cherish you…care for you…"_

Harry shifted uncomfortably, wondering how much the spirit actually knew. Never had a stranger kown so much about his life with the Dursleys. At school, the teachers noticed his skinniness, but all they would ever do was tell the Dursleys that he had to eat more, never suspecting for a moment that the Dursleys abused him.

"_You wish to be away from them…I can help you…as I have said, I am the manifestation of power itself…I can give you power beyond your imagination…you simply have to accept it…"_

Harry swallowed. He was starting to get the chills from this…spirit.

"_You do not have to give your answer now…but consider it, boy…power…power to exact your revenge on those who hurt you…power to act on your hatred…"_

As the voice faded away, Harry finally allowed himself to be dragged away by Riley. He shivered. He would never, never, never want to cross paths with that spirit again. There was something sinister about it. As he and Riley walked back to the Dursleys, Harry remembered something that sent a wave of coldness through his body – he was late in making dinner for the Dursleys. It was not going to end good. Standing in the driveway, he trembled before saying to Riley, "Go, Riley. I'll see you tomorrow."

Riley must have heard the nervousness and fear in his voice because he hesitated to leave until Harry urged him to go.

Taking a deep breath, Harry approached the door that stood between him and pain. Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a large beefy hand reached out to grab his neck. The next thing Harry knew, he was thrown into the wall and his uncle was towering over him with the most vicious look on his face.

"You…you…" Vernon appeared too angry to speak. "How dare you - "

Harry swallowed and prepared for the beating that was to come.

"I'm sick of seeing your worthless body wasting space in our home!" Vernon spat, his eyes almost maniacal. He turned to his wife. "Petunia, no one has come to check on him for a long time. Surely there is no reason for keeping him!"

"But, Vernon, if _he _finds out…"

"I don't know what kind of people your sister hung out with, but in this neighborhood, you don't force someone else's kid on a respectable family and expect them to take care of him!" Vernon glared at Harry. "He cannot blame us for anything that happens to this freak! That's it! I'm through with him in this house! I'll get rid of him and _make sure_ he'll never come back to our doorstep!" The maniacal glint appeared once again in Vernon's eyes. He stormed into his study before coming out with what shocked and froze Harry to the very core of his being. In his hand was a gun.

…

Dumbledore pushed the Transfiguration tome back into its place on his shelf as he hummed to himself. The school year had started out wonderfully. The house elves really outdone themselves this year for the welcome feast…

A sharp sound caused his blood to run cold. He spun around and stared in shock at the shattered globe on his desk. It could only mean one thing – the protection surrounding the Dursleys' house had been broken. But how? It could only break when Harry turned of age…or when he could no longer consider the Dursleys' house his home. The former was impossible and the latter was quite unlikely. A home was a place that one knew one could return to at the end of the day…What could have possibly made Harry think that he could no longer return to the Dursleys'? Surely his relatives did not simply kick him out!

But there was no time to dwell on such matters. Dumbledore disapparated without even a sound.

…

"Vernon, what are you doing?" Petunia cried, horrified. "You'll be dragged to prison if the police finds out!"

"What the police doesn't know won't hurt them…or us," Vernon said coldly.

This Vernon was someone even Petunia was afraid of. Despite looking as though she wanted to stop him from killing, she cowered against the wall, too afraid to approach him, especially with the gun in his hand.

As he raised his gun at Harry, he growled, "Anything you would like to say, freak?"

Harry could only look on helplessly, fearfully as Vernon prepared to pull the trigger. He couldn't believe it – his own family member was about to kill him. His heart thumped painfully…He squeezed his eyes shut tight, preparing for the worst…

Suddenly a loud, familiar bark sounded through his panicked mind, causing Harry to snap open his eyes. What he saw…there was no word to describe it.

Vernon had apparently forgotten to lock the door when he had pulled Harry inside because Riley slammed it open in his haste to save his master. The next few seconds passed by as though in slow motion. Riley leaped at Vernon's arm, his jaws clamping onto the large man's arm, his momentun pushing the gun to the side so that when Vernon pulled the trigger, the bullet hit the wall right next to Harry. However, it only made Vernon enter a rage, and despite the pain he was in from the dog's bite, he rammed Riley into the wall, causing the dog to let go in pain. Without hesitation, Vernon fired off several more shots.

"NO!" Harry's voice sounded foreign upon his own ears. All he could see was red, red, red, and more red spilling across Aunt Petunia's once-clean floor. He ran to Riley's still body, his heart racing as he cried, "No, no, no! Riley…please wake up!" He refused to believe it. He refused to believe that his first and only friend was dead. "No…" He stopped when it was clear that Riley wasn't responding no matter how much he shook him. His heart felt cold and ached. Hot, angry tears spilled onto the floor.

"Stupid dog," Vernon spat. "It bit me…Now it's your turn." He pointed the gun at Harry.

Harry couldn't describe the heat that rushed through his body. Never had he felt such anger, such rage before. It enveloped his senses and left only one feeling in Harry – pure hatred.

"_Let your hatred go, boy!"_

Harry didn't even bother to remember where he had heard that voice from. He simply obeyed the command…and let go.

Vernon was blasted backwards into the opposite wall by a powerful burst of magic. Wind whirled around Harry, blowing paper and other light objects around. Petunia and Dudley were cowering in the corner.

"_Now…what is your answer, boy? Surrender yourself to me, and I will handle the rest, giving you unimaginable power! Take your revenge on those Mudbloods who dared to dare!"_

Harry didn't answer. Suddenly, he found himself trapped within a ball of white light, and in front of him, a large figure loomed over him, its black robes billowing around it. Its red eyes glowed from beneath its hood as it hissed, _"You are mine…Harry…Potter…"_ Its hands closed around the sphere containing Harry…

Harry closed his eyes. Yes, he wanted to hurt the Dursleys so much – he wanted to hurt them for everything they had done to him, what they had done to his friend. However, something didn't feel right…

_Riley gave his hand a small lick…_

Harry's eyes snapped open. What was that? Memories of him and Riley began to appear in his mind's eye…_Harry stuggled to lift his hand and reach out to pet the puppy gently on the head…Riley curled up under his arm…_

His anger faded away, slowly but surely, only to be replaced by a stronger, more painful emotion – grief. The light surrounding Harry expanded, and although the black figure looming over him struggled to grab onto him, he couldn't. Even in death, Riley protected him.

"_What are you doing, boy? You fool! Do you not want revenge on them?"_

Harry raised his head, his vision clearing until he could see the Dursleys cowering together against the far wall. They had neglected him. They had abused him. They had hated him. They had even tried to kill him. But still…revenge…what a sweet candy with a extremely bitter aftertaste…now that Harry could think more clearly without his anger to blind him, he knew this. _I don't know who you are…I don't know what's exactly going on…but…no, I don't want revenge on them. I just want to leave this place and never come back…_Grief taking a huge toll on his body, in his fatigue, Harry collapsed after he heard an inhuman scream of anger.

…

Dumbledore was shocked at the sight that greeted him as he approached the Dursleys' home. The front door had been ripped off its hinges, revealing a mess inside. A dead dog was lying in a pool of blood in the corner, Harry was unconscious next to the dog, and the Dursleys were cowering against the opposite wall. "What happened here?" he whispered, to no one in particular. His eyes strayed to the gun still in Vernon's hand, and his bright mind put one and one together – why Harry no longer considered the Dursleys' house his home. "What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" the wizard roared.

Vernon mustered up the little courage he had and snarled, "We didn't want him in the first place!"

"But he was family," the elderly man said softly, dangerously. "You were the only family he had left. Instead you acted to kill him – you considered him beneath the strangers you meet out on the streets!"

Vernon was about to argue, but seeing the look on Dumbledore's face zapped the bit of courage that he had mustered up.

"I see that you could not even sympathize with him. Perhaps this would change your mentality." Dumbledore pointed his wand at them and then waved it. Then he tucked it away beneath his robes and turned to Harry. "Perhaps…" He paused when a scream ripped itself from Vernon's throat. "…feeling the exact pain he went through at your hands would teach you sympathy. Perhaps you should also reconsider what familial duties mean to you." He closed his eyes here as though remembering a painful memory before he picked up Harry in his arms. Glancing over at the dog next to him, he gave a sad smile and then laid him on Harry after cleaning the blood off its fur with a charm. Then he stood up and Apparated to Potter Manor.

After he laid Harry down on a bed – with Riley next to him, Dumbledore sat down on a chair next to the bed, his face in his hand, and whispered, "What have _I_ done?"

**Please Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, since this is fanfiction, there will be many changes to the canon. For example, Arabella Figg will not exist in this fanfiction. **

Chapter Two: I'm Sorry

Dumbledore watched as Harry's eyes slowly opened. The Headmaster had left his glasses on, so Harry had no trouble seeing as he woke up. Dumbledore didn't say anything as Harry turned to face Riley, his hand reaching out to brush the dog's fur…ever so gently.

It was as though Harry didn't see anything else besides his fallen friend. He noticed not the luxury he himself was surrounded in nor the elderly man sitting at his bedside. His eyes could only replay the scene again and again – Riley saving him, Vernon killing him, blood spilling out onto the floor…Perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed his situation, but for the moment, everything was placed on the backburner in comparison to his companion.

A tear rolled down onto his pillow. His heart ached so much it hurt. Riley was his first friend, his only friend…Now he was gone. The most precious thing to Harry was snatched away from him. Was he only Fate's playtoy? He had never hurt anybody…he had never killed anyone…then why? Why? WHY? Harry was fully sobbing now.

Dumbledore's heart broke as he watched the boy cry his heart out. Deciding that it would be best to leave Harry to mourn his friend for the moment, the elderly man stood up and left the room.

Harry cradled Riley's body, his tears dripping onto the creature's fur.

_Harry cowered against a tree as Dudley and his gang surrounded him._

"_Harry Hunting sure is fun, isn't it, Dud?" Piers Polkiss asked gleefully. "I'll hold his arms behind him while you punch him, okay?"_

"_Whatever. Get on with it!" Dudley said, his malicious eyes focused on Harry._

_Suddenly, out of the blue, Riley sped out of the bushes and stood in front of Harry, his head lowered and his teeth bared in a snarl. Although he was only a few months old, he was rather large when facing an eight-year-old human boy._

_Dudley stumbled backwards, his eyes wide in terror._

_Riley snapped his jaws threateningly at each of them in turn before they all ran off in terror._

"_Riley, come here," Harry commanded gently. The dog ran to him, and Harry hugged him, laughing. "Good boy…good boy…"_

Now…nothing he could ever do will bring his loyal friend back…

…

When Dumbledore returned several hours later, he found Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand on Riley's head, which was laid on his lap. "Harry."

Harry looked up, his eyes seeing Dumbledore for the first time. With childlike curiosity piercing the sadness in his voice, he asked quietly, "Who are you, Sir? And where am I?"

"Everything will be explained to you in due time, my boy. For now…" Dumbledore gave Riley a sad but admiring glance before saying gently, "…perhaps we have a more pressing matter. Would you like to bury him?"

Harry lowered his eyes, combing his fingers through Riley's fur as though his dog was still alive. "Please, Sir…I want something special for him. Would it be too much to ask for…maybe a tombstone?" Tears escaped from his eyes once again, and his next words came in gasps and sobs. "I know he's a dog, but he's special to me…he saved my life."

Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Of course, Harry." He waited for Harry to calm down before he secretly conjured up a large sheet of velvet cloth. Gently taking Riley's body into his arms, he wrapped the cloth around the corpse and laid his body in Harry's arms. "Follow me, Harry. He will get the burial he deserved." He led Harry out of the Manor and into the surrounding forest. They walked for several hours, but Harry said no word of complaint.

Finally they arrived at a small clearing where Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Do not ask questions yet, Harry. All will be answered soon, but for now, take your time to mourn." He then took out his wand and pointed it at the ground. "Defodio." With that, the earth hollowed out into a neatly cut grave.

It amazed Harry, but remembering Dumbledore's words, he made no comment. Instead, he gently placed Riley's body into the grave.

Dumbledore covered the body with dirt before using more magic to conjure up a smooth black marble tombstone at the head of the grave. "What would you like to have written on it?" he asked gently.

Harry stared at the tombstone for a minute before saying, "Riley – A perfect example of unwavering loyalty."

Carefully, Dumbledore carved the words into the marble and stood up. Then he closed his eyes as though considering something before he waved his wand several more times. Two crystal vases, each filled with lilies, appeared on either side of the tombstone before the grass behind the marble morphed and transformed into a white marble statue – a perfect replica of Riley standing proudly on a base about two feet high. "Orchideous." Dumbledore handed Harry a bouquet of flowers.

Harry was speechless, both from thanks and amazement. However, the elderly wizard understood. Harry laid the bouquet on the brown dirt that covered where Riley lay and then stood up. "Thank you, Riley. I'll never forget you." Tears dripped onto Riley's grave. Somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, but in the forefront, he only felt coldness. Simple coldness that numbed the hurt in his heart.

…

Harry allowed himself to be led back to the Manor. He never felt more tired in his life. However, he knew it would be best to clear up everything before he did anything else. He turned to Dumbledore. "Sir, who are you?"

Dumbledore motioned for Harry to sit down on the sofa in front of the fireplace while he lit up the fireplace with flames that warmed Harry's entire body up. Then he sat down next to Harry, his hands on his lap in front of him. "Harry, there is much I have to tell you. And not all of it will be…good."

"It's okay, Sir," Harry said. "You're really nice. You helped honor Riley's death after all. Whatever's not good – you'll help make it better, won't you?"

Dumbledore widened his eyes in surprise. Despite everything he had been through, how easy it was to gain the little boy's trust…Just by Conjuring a monument to honor his friend. How could anyone abuse this child? His heart went out to Harry. He couldn't believe how easy it was for Harry to gain a grip of his heart. Already, he was fond of the boy. He mentally sighed. What he was about to tell Harry…he could only hope this child could forgive his mistake. But then again, they say that trust easily earned is the hardest to gain back after it's been betrayed. Dumbledore smiled sadly. "My boy, what I will tell you will not make you think very highly of me."

"But, Sir, we barely even know each other…" Harry protested.

Dumbledore raised his hand to quiet Harry down. "Please, Harry, wait until the end before you make a judgment about my character. I would prefer not to gain respect that I do not earn."

Despite the doubt on Harry's face, he obeyed and remained silent for Dumbledore to continue.

"First and foremost, we must start with something that is the foundation which your world, as well as mine, is based on. Tell me, Harry – do you believe in magic?" Dumbledore's blue eyes stared into Harry's green ones.

"Uncle Vernon always told me that it doesn't exist," Harry replied softly, uncertainly. "But…you did all those things, and they…they're like magic…" He trailed off, his shoulders trembling slightly as though he was expecting to be punished for saying such blasphemies.

"That is because they are." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he asked, "After what happened, Harry, are you really going to believe anything your uncle told you?" He ignored the nagging guilt that told him that technically, Harry shouldn't believe anything Dumbledore told him either. He pulled out his wand and flicked it at the pillow behind Harry, floating it into Harry's arms. "I can assure you that there are no wires or anything that could transform grass into a statue. It's magic. Pure magic."

Harry's eyes were wide with fascination as he drank in each and every one of Dumbledore's words.

Dumbledore put his wand away and said gently, "Magic is your world as well, Harry. Your parents lived in it, and now, it is your inheritance."

Harry's eyes widened even further in surprise. "You…you knew my parents, Sir?"

He nodded. "I do."

A multitude of questions were ready on Harry's tongue, but he held them back so as not to bombard Dumbledore with questions that he will have answered anyway. Instead, he asked the question for that moment, "But, Sir, how can I be a…wizard? I've never done anything magical in my life. I can't even do those magic tricks people do with cards…"

Dumbledore chuckled. "That is not magic, Harry. They are simply…ah, how to say it…tricks. However, they are not true magic. And to answer your question, I am almost certain you have done some accidental magic by now."

"Accidental magic?" Confusion flitted across Harry's face.

"You never had training to control your magic, so sometimes it comes out when you're feeling a strong emotion, such as grief or fear." The expression on Harry's face was answer enough for Dumbledore, who gave him a satisfied smile.

"Wait, Sir…does my magic have a voice?" Harry asked, remembering the hissing voice that he had heard the day before.

Dumbledore gave him a surprised look. "It shouldn't. I have never heard of anyone's magic having a voice before…" At that, realization dawned upon the wizard. "Harry, when did you hear this voice?"

"Yesterday at the park and later that night…"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. _When the protection was broken…_He took a deep breath. It was a close call. Harry must have fought Voldemort off somehow. That would be the subject of his thoughts for another day. "Let's continue."

Harry gave him a strange look but nodded.

"So as I have said, magic is your inheritance, but it is not all that you have received from your parents. In fact…" Dumbledore made a wide sweeping motion with his arm and said, "…this entire mansion and all surrounding lands are yours. Your ancestors on your father's side owned this island." He smiled at the disbelief on Harry's face. "Of course, they also left you quite a large amount of gold, but it's all in your bank account…"

"All this?" Harry asked feebly.

"All this." Dumbledore bowed his head slightly. "You must forgive me for trespassing on private property, Harry."

"I-it's fine," Harry stuttered, his expression still one of disbelief.

Dumbledore chuckled before his expression became more serious. "Now, Harry, what I will tell you – it will be heavy material." He closed his eyes, his hands once again folded on his lap. "One thing you must understand is that not all wizards are good. About seven years ago, there was a wizard who studied the Dark Arts more in depth than any other before him – a very powerful Dark wizard. His name was Voldemort. And seven years ago, Voldemort came after you."

Harry blinked. "But why? Why me?"

Dumbledore opened his eyes and replied gently, "Harry, there are some things that you should not know before you're ready. But understand this – it had nothing to do with you as a person and everything to do with Voldemort's fears and greed." He sighed before continuing, "I was charged to keep you and your parents safe. I was and still am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that your parents went to and that soon you will go to. Albus Dumbledore."

Harry nodded and asked, "How should I address you, Sir?"

"'Professor' or 'Sir' will be fine, Harry." Dumbledore then continued, "By then, your parents had moved out of Potter Manor, which is this estate that you see here. Your mother was not fond of aristocratic life, and so your parents moved to a cottage in Godric's Hollow. There, they were given the most powerful protection possible. However, despite all that, Voldemort broke through, murdering both of your parents to get to you."

"How did I survive?" Harry asked, breathless.

Dumbledore lowered his head and said heavily, "Your father was murdered first, apparently trying to buy your mother enough time to run away with you. However, both your parents forgot their wands, and it was impossible for them to escape that way. After he finished with your father, Voldemort came after your mother. This is what led to his demise…and your survival. I will not tell you how I know this, but Voldemort gave your mother something that he had never before given anyone else. A choice. She could step aside willingly and let him kill you or she could remain between him and you. It was her _choice_ that saved your life, Harry. She chose the latter, and her sacrifice protected you when Voldemort tried to kill you. His curse rebounded and destroyed him instead."

Harry swallowed. "My parents…sacrificed themselves…for me?"

Dumbledore nodded and gently took Harry's hand, turning it over to reveal his wrist with its veins clearly shown. "Yes, Harry, they did. And they did so willingly. Their love for you runs through your veins so long as you live."

Harry bit his lower lip. All his life…he had thought he was worthless, undeserving of any love…and here, the very fact that he was alive showed how much he was loved. It was almost too much for him to handle. First, his parents died in trying to protect him from an evil wizard…Then, Riley died in trying to protect him from his murderous uncle…and Harry had thought he was loveless.

"Now, Harry, it is time for my confession."

Harry looked up. His eyes widened when he saw Dumbledore's sad gaze on him. "Professor?"

Dumbledore looked Harry in the eye as he said, "Harry, everything I have said to you is the truth. No matter how you'll feel about what I'm going to tell you, understand that."

Harry nodded slowly.

"The one who handed you over to your relatives' care after Voldemort's attack was me." Silence greeted his words.

"What?"

Dumbledore turned away. "I am the one responsible for putting you under your relatives' care."

"But…why?"

Harry's voice didn't sound angry. Instead, it sounded broken, and it broke Dumbledore's heart. "After Voldemort was gone, the war with him ended. His reign of terror ended. Many believed that you, by your own power, destroyed him, and you became famous. That was the reason why I believed that you would be better off away from all that. That left only nonmagical families who would not have known your role in the war. However, I was afraid that Voldemort's followers would try to find and kill you for destroying their master. So I gave you to the Dursleys. Since they were related to your mother by blood, by living with them, you keep your mother's protection alive through what we call 'blood wards.' It's ancient magic – neither Voldemort nor his followers can harm you there. What I did not count on was your uncle trying to kill you under his own roof. Due to his actions, you could no longer call the Dursleys' house your home, a place where you can return to. Because of that, the protection broke down."

"Couldn't you have taken me here?" Harry asked softly.

"In this Manor, Harry, the only living creatures are house elves, who are servants. Living here and growing up among house elves, you would have had very, very limited human interaction. Can you see now how that would have stunted your social growth?"

"Anything…anything would have been better than the Dursleys," Harry replied miserably. "Did you…did you ever check up on me? Did you know how miserable I was? Or did you leave me there and then forget about me?"

Silence. Then Dumbledore said softly, "That was my mistake, Harry. I didn't check up on you, and so I never knew how you were treated. I had put too much faith in familial duties to take care of you. But I was wrong." He lowered his eyes. And what a mistake it was, too. He should have known better, especially with his past regarding family…When the Headmaster looked up, the sight that greeted him tore at his insides. He resisted the urge to reach out and comfort the boy. It was not right for the one to hurt to comfort as well.

Harry sat there, his eyes lifeless. Dumbledore confirmed what he had feared. Was he really such a burden to take care of? This man…sitting in front of him…was responsible for his misery - did he consider him a burden - the reason why he didn't even bother checking up on him? Harry stood up and left the room without another word. He needed to…think. When he was sure he was out of Dumbledore's earshot, he sank to the floor, hugging his knees, tears threatening to fall. He didn't know what to do...or think.

…

Dumbledore sat there and waited. One hour. Should he have waited until Harry was older before telling him all this? Two hours. But Harry deserved to be told all this. He had experienced many things that even adults have never experienced before. Such experiences force children to mature beyond their years. Three hours. Dumbledore only hoped he did the right thing. And perhaps in time, Harry would forgive him. His heart ached at the thought of Harry hating him. In such a short time, he had grown fond of the boy. Four hours. It was pitch black outside by now, and the Headmaster was starting to worry. A noise to his left made him raise his head.

Harry stood there, not looking him in the eye, but his face was one of determination.

Dumbledore didn't say anything. Instead, he waited for Harry to collect his thoughts and talk on his own terms.

"Professor…" Harry began. "I…" He seemed to be struggling with himself to say something.

Dumbledore sighed. He would make it up to the boy…somehow, he promised himself…even if Harry grew up to hate him. "Harry, I understand if you hate me…"

Harry looked him in the eye then, but his face showed surprise and confusion, not anger as Dumbledore had presumed. "Professor…I don't hate you. I was about to say I forgive you."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Pardon, Harry?"

"I forgive you." Harry shifted nervously, uncomfortably, before explaining, "It was kind of hard for me to say it. A bit awkward. I've never said that to anyone before. Usually, it's the other way around. Uncle Vernon always said that it's my fault bad things happen. But…well, I thought…in this case, you seemed to be the one wanting forgiveness."

"You're not angry, Harry? Or upset?" Dumbledore asked, his surprise still evident on his face. This child…

"Of course I was," Harry replied. "But I had time to think it over, and I thought…well, you made a mistake. You seem as though you really do care, but you made a mistake. A bad one, but a mistake still."

"But, Harry, I ruined your childhood…" Dumbledore protested softly, still disbelieving.

Harry looked away. "I was angry at you for a while. And I wanted to hate you, too…But all that anger…it didn't feel good, and it just made me feel terrible after a while, as though I'll never feel happy again. I didn't like it, and you sounded like you were really sorry, so there was no reason to hold grudges. Everyone makes mistakes, some bigger than others, but no one's perfect. People try their best, so we…we shouldn't point fingers. It's…not right, no matter how big the mistake is."

Dumbledore considered him carefully. Who was this boy, who had such a natural tendency, an instinct, to forgive? It simply wasn't natural. _I forgive you. _Such beautiful words that warmed his heart and healed his soul, if only partially. How many times had he longed to talk to his family again and hear them say those healing words? He mentally chuckled. How many times does one get to see an eight-year-old child forgive an old man for his mistakes? After a silence, Dumbledore smiled. Then, he reached out and laid his hand gently on Harry's head, ruffling his hair slightly. "You are a good person, Harry, no matter what your uncle has told you in the past. Thank you."

Harry blinked, unsure of what to do, before he smiled back. His heart felt lighter…and even though he barely knew Dumbledore, the kind gesture was not something he experienced at the hands of the Dursleys, and it felt good – human affection.

…

The sun shone through the parted curtains in Harry's room and landed right on his face. Harry groaned slightly and opened his eyes, reaching for his glasses on the table next to his bed. Putting them on, he blinked blearily, wondering for a moment whether everything that happened the day before had been a dream. Realizing where he was, he was happy to conclude that it wasn't. After Dumbledore left for Hogwarts, promising to return the next day to help Harry adjust, Harry had went straight to sleep, exhausted. Now that he had a full night's sleep, he was ready and excited to explore this world of magic that he had been dropped into.

He leaped out of bed, and not wanting to disgust his future Headmaster with morning breath, he rushed into the bathroom that was connected to his room. He paused for a moment to admire how big it was before reaching for the toothbrush that was placed there conveniently for his use. He still couldn't believe that this entire…mansion was his! After he brushed his teeth, he decided to take a bath as well.

Harry was delighted to find out that the numerous faucets shaped like animal heads on the edge of the tub each released a different smelling soap and that the glass panel next to the tub opened up to an entire store of bath oils. Who kept all these things updated? Harry took off his clothes, about to jump in, when he noticed his appearance in the mirror. It hadn't improved much, but his back…the wounds had all healed, even though the scars remained. He smiled, realizing that Dumbledore must have healed them the day before, but he had been too emotionally tried to realize it.

As he relaxed himself in the water, Harry thought about the last conversation he had with Riley. He had wished to be taken away from the Dursleys. And his wish came true. "I wish you're here with me," he murmured. He closed his eyes. "Don't worry about me, though, wherever you are. I'll live for the both of us. I won't waste your sacrifice." He opened his eyes. "I promise."

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Rags to Riches

When Harry finished and went out into the living room, he found Dumbledore already there, sitting in an armchair. The elderly wizard smiled at him and said, "Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning, Professor. So what are we going to do first?" Harry asked, his excitement clear in his voice.

Dumbledore chuckled and gestured for Harry to sit down on the couch across from him. Once Harry did so, he said, "First and foremost of all, Harry, you must meet the other occupants of this house. They have been waiting most patiently to see you, and it would be a disfavor to make them wait any longer. As I have mentioned before, there are…"

As though waiting for that exact moment to appear, several house elves popped into existence, forming a large semicircle around Harry and the couch. About thirty of them in number, they were wearing what Harry thought was a blue towel with a black ribbon tied around the waist. Their sudden appearance scared Harry into a shock, and he could only stare with his mouth wide open as a rather old one approached him and said, "It is an honor to meet Master at last, Master Harry, Sir."

Harry gawked before turning to Dumbledore, unsure of what to do.

Dumbledore chuckled and explained, "These are house elves, Harry. They are servants of the manor. They are the ones that have kept this house so clean and pristine in the absence of your parents and family. As you can see, they have been eagerly awaiting your presence."

"Oh…er, hello," Harry said awkwardly.

The house elves were listening intently, hung upon each word…and misword coming from Harry's mouth.

Dumbledore chuckled again. "You are their master, Harry," he said, becoming more serious. Since Harry was going to live here from now on, he needed to understand the relationship he had with these creatures. "In almost every sense of that word. They will obey your every order."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Master? It was a strange position for him to be in. For so long, he had been in the role of the servant, more of a slave. Everyone had been above him, and no one had been below him. "Obey my every order?" he asked Dumbledore tentatively, unsure of what that meant.

"Your every order," Dumbledore repeated, nodding. "What that means, Harry, is that you can order them to kill themselves and they will obey." Seeing Harry's horrified expression, Dumbledore was pleased. Of course, he never expected Harry to ever do such a thing, but seeing Harry's reaction to what he said, the wizard was assured that Harry would never abuse power.

"Sir, I don't want that kind of…power. I'm not a god, and I don't want power over someone's life and death," Harry protested.

"Well, there is a way to free the house elves," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "However, Harry, you must understand that they _wish _to be enslaved. If you free them, you will not be doing them a favor. To free them, you simply have to give them clothes."

"They like being enslaved?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Dumbledore nodded, smiling. "It is difficult for us to understand. However, it is true. What will you do?"

In all honesty, Harry had no idea. What was he supposed to do with such power? He never had such before. It was similar to holding a foreign object in his hand. "I don't know, Sir." Harry's eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought. "I don't want to hurt them or anything like that. But they like being enslaved, so I can't free them."

Dumbledore's smile never wavered. "Masters do not have to be cruel, Harry."

Harry had never thought of it that way. He supposed that in some ways, due to Vernon's treatment of him, he had begun to think of his uncle as less of family and more of an overbearing master. And then because of that, in his subconscious, he thought that in any relationship, the one addressed as 'Master' would always be bad…But what Dumbledore said was a relief. Harry looked around at the numerous house elves, smiled, and said, "I guess I'll just have to be the good master."

"I'm sure you will be, Harry," Dumbledore said approvingly.

"Master Harry, sir, do you need anything?" One of the house elves squeaked out.

"I…" Harry's stomach growled, causing his cheeks to redden. In all the excitement, Harry had forgotten to eat all of yesterday. Harry noted that his future Headmaster had been in the same boat.

"Master Harry is hungry! Master must not have eaten for a long time!" With that, the house elves all disappeared with several resounding cracks to go make breakfast.

Harry blinked in confusion before he admitted to Dumbledore, "This feels really strange, having others cook for me. I've cooked every meal for as long as I can remember. Er…" He shifted slightly. "…do you want breakfast, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled, a serene expression on his face. "That would nice."

…

Taking a closer look at the Manor, his new home, Harry realized that his ancestors must have had a strong incline towards both comfort and luxury. Although the furniture and the decorations seemed expensive and must have costed a fortune, the house gave off a warm atmosphere, and Harry had never felt more at home.

"Now, Harry, I won't be able to come often since I have duties as Headmaster. Therefore, if you wish to explore or go to Diagon Alley, please take a house elf with you." Dumbledore took out his wand. "Before we go, I want to perform a very powerful spell on this estate to protect you. It is called the Fidelius Charm, and it will hide the location of this place from all except those to whom you reveal the secret. With this spell, no one can find you so long as you are on this island."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Do I have to do anything?"

Dumbledore shook his head and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, pointing his wand at Harry's chest.

Suddenly Harry's chest opened and beams of light streamed out of it. In the air in front of Harry, the words "Potter Estate, Hazel Island" appeared before they sped into the opening in Harry's chest. Then, Harry's chest closed, and the light disappeared.

Dumbledore removed his wand and stowed it away. "After we leave this island, Harry, I will have no recollection of the location of this estate. Its location is a secret hidden in your soul now. You are the Secret Keeper."

Harry widened his eyes. "I can tell you though, right? The secret?"

"My boy, you can tell the secret to whomever you like," the wizard said, laughing. "It's your secret to tell." Dumbledore took hold of an ornate crystal bowl on the shelf above the fireplace and showed it to Harry. "The powder inside is called Floo powder. It's a method of travel used by wizards. You take a pinch…you don't need a lot. Then you step into the fireplace, call out your destination, and throw the powder onto the hearth. Like so." Dumbledore stepped into the fireplace. "Diagon Alley." And with that, he burst into green flames and disappeared.

Harry stared. "Brilliant," he breathed. He followed Dumbledore's example and the next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the floor.

"I assume you had a good trip?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes shining merrily, causing Harry to flush. He lended Harry a hand and pulled him up. "This, Harry, is Diagon Alley."

Harry gawked. And what a marvelous place it was! Shops sold everything from cauldrons to owls to robes. Wizards and witches wearing robes and cloaks swarmed his vision and crowded the street. Shopkeepers and patrons haggled over prices of potion ingredients and spellbooks, and every so often, an owl or two would swoop overhead. "Sir…this is…this is…"

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore chuckled. "Even after so many years of seeing this place, it never ceases to amaze me." He watched as Harry peered through a window, his eyes bright with wonderment at the various equipment on display. A day with Harry could never be boring.

"Sir, what are galleons?" Harry asked, pointing at the sign that showed the price of the set of scales he had been eyeing.

"Wizard currency, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "Come now. You can't buy any of these things without money after all. We'll stop by at Gringotts first – the wizard bank." He pointed at the tall, white building that loomed over Diagon Alley. "I think you'll be happy to know that you are left quite a fortune from your parents." He led Harry inside.

Harry swallowed nervously when he saw the goblins. They were short like house elves, but they appeared much nastier. "Sir, what are those?"

"Goblins, the bankers," Dumbledore said cheerily, making his way over to the nearest goblin. "Excuse me, Mr. Glavak, but Mr. Potter would like to take a visit to his vault."

Glavak leaned over the counter on which he had been counting rubies to look at Harry. He sneered nastily. "Does Mr. Potter have his key?"

Dumbledore pulled out a small gold key and handed it over to the goblin. "That should be the key to his vault."

Glavak huffed and barked, "Griphook, show Mr. Potter his vault!"

As they followed Griphook into a cart and though a network of tunnels to his vault, Harry didn't think he liked the goblins very much. They didn't seem particularly friendly, especially Glavak. At least Griphook didn't give Harry a nasty look.

When the cart stopped, Griphook stepped out and motioned for the key. "This is Vault 687." He walked up to a large, round metal door and stuck the key into its hole, turning it. The door swung open.

Harry gawked.

Dumbledore smiled. "My, my, Harry, you certainly do have a great amount of gold."

The vault was large enough for several people to walk in comfortably. On either side of the narrow walkway, there were mountains upon mountains of gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. Further along, there were stone tables piled high with gemstones, some bigger than even the rubies that Glavak had been counting. There were rubies, emeralds, topazes, amethysts, opals, diamonds, lapiz lazulis, garnets, jade, onyx, sapphires, turquoises…Long strings of pearls hung on the walls.

Harry swallowed in disbelief. "There is no way this is my vault."

Dumbledore chuckled. "But it is, Harry. Your family was a very old Wizarding family." He reached into his robe's pocket and took out a small hardcover booklet, scarlet with gold designs – just like the goblins' uniforms. He held it out to Harry. "I had taken the liberty of asking for an inventory of your vault when I had talked to Glavak earlier. It's a bit too early for you to learn finances, but at least you can keep track of the activity of your account. Withdrawals and deposits will be recorded in that book."

Harry nodded, still shocked. In less than three days, he had found out that he owned an _island, _a _manor_, and a vault with incredible amounts of _treasure_. It was almost too much to handle.

Dumbledore took out a pocket watch, frowned at the time, and then said to Harry as he put it away, "My apologies, Harry, but I have duties to attend to soon. When you return home, if you so wish to go to Diagon Alley for a bit of shopping, please take at least one of the house elves along with you for safety's sake."

"Yes, Sir."

"Of course, you'll need something to hold your money in if you're going shopping," he added. He turned to Griphook. "Does Gringotts hand out money pouches?"

"It will cost you," Griphook replied with a rather nasty smile. "A Knut for a cloth pouch. A Sickle if you want an anti-theft charm or a protection charm on it. A Galleon if you want both on it. Five extra Galleons if you want it to be dragonskin. All purchases are permanent."

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "What should I get, Sir?"

"My boy, it is entirely your money to spend with as you please," Dumbledore replied.

Despite his words, however, Harry had a distinct feeling that the Headmaster was testing him. Testing him for what, Harry didn't know. He hadn't had much experience with money…none at all, in fact. The Dursleys never allowed him to touch a single penny. Now that he had so much money, it was somewhat baffling for him to decide how to spend it. However, his instincts told him that spending his money thoughtlessly would not go well in the long run – no matter how much money he had. He might as well develop good habits now. "What does dragonskin do?" he asked the wizard.

"Well, to illustrate its use, if someone were to try to cast a spell on the bag to set it on fire, the dragonskin would repel the spell. Dragonskin is spell-repellent, although of course, while your money might be safe, the same cannot be said for you," Dumbledore replied honestly.

"Is it durable?"

"Very. Dragonhide has been known to sustain heavy damage for years without ripping."

Harry took out five Galleons and a Sickle from his vault and handed the money to Griphook. "Can I get a dragonskin one with an anti-theft charm on it?" Without even looking at Dumbledore to see his reaction, Harry already knew he had made the right choice. Not spending his money wastefully by overlapping the benefits – dragonskin with the anti-theft charm would be enough protection for his money – he didn't need another protection charm over it. And dragonskin was a far better choice than cloth, which ripped fairly easily – it could actually cause him to lose more money than the cost of the dragonskin.

Griphook took the money and pulled out a black, leathery money pouch from his pocket, handing it over to Harry, who filled it up with a handful of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts each.

Dumbledore smiled as he watched.

…

"It has been a good morning spent in your company, Harry. However, as with all good things, it must come to pass. Therefore, take care," Dumbledore said as he watched Harry step into the fireplace with Floo powder in hand.

"Will you visit sometime, Sir?" Harry asked hopefully. Dumbledore was kind, and not having experienced enough of kindness in his life, Harry was reluctant to part ways with one of the few people who didn't treat him as though he were…a burden.

Dumbledore hesitated. "It is difficult, Harry, with my duties and responsibilities. However, when I have time, yes, I will visit."

Harry beamed and nodded eagerly. He was about to throw the Floo Powder onto the hearth when he suddenly remembered a very important detail. "Oh, Professor, I almost forgot!" He ran over to Dumbledore and whispered in his ear, "Potter Estate, Hazel Island." He grinned and was about to run back into the fireplace when he remembered yet another very important detail. "Professor," he began, looking up at Dumbledore. "You said that accidental magic happens when I feel a strong emotion, but does that always have to be the case?"

"That is usually the case. However, there are a few who can do simple magic at will without a wand. Although, it requires a control that most wizards and witches do not have, so I wouldn't call that 'accidental' magic." Dumbledore seemed thoughtful for a moment before he commented, "Your mother I believe was gifted with extraordinary control over her magical abilities, and so she was able to do that at a young age – even before she knew what magic was. What prompted your question, Harry?"

Harry appeared conflicted over something, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Then he pulled a seed out of his jeans' pocket. "Riley and I found a few of these seeds when we were playing in the park the other day. I was thinking…" He swallowed nervously and didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he laid the seed on the palm of his hand and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

To the older wizard's astonishment, the seed _hatched,_ and a plant emerged from it. It was as though the scene he was seeing was being played fast forward. The plant developed, and soon a fully formed daisy was in Harry's hand.

Harry blinked and then offered the daisy to Dumbledore. "It's for you, Sir. Thank you." He bit his lip anxiously. The last time he tried to make something special for his aunt and uncle, they simply burned his cards…right in front of him.

Dumbledore stared at the daisy in Harry's hand before he chuckled. He gently took the flower into his hand and said, "It's beautiful, Harry. Thank you."

In an instant, all of Harry's uncertainty washed away. He gave Dumbledore a bright smile and then ran back into the fireplace. "Potter Manor," he said before throwing the powder onto the hearth and disappearing in a burst of green flames.

As Dumbledore turned on the spot to Apparate to Hogwarts, his heart felt warm and full. Such a delightful child…McGonagall would later ask why he had a daisy on his desk in his office, and Dumbledore would answer that a child had given it to him, earning him a very strange look.

…

"Nettle, what are these things?" Harry asked, standing outside the apothecary.

"Those are potion ingredients, Master Harry, sir," his house elf companion replied. "But Master won't be able to do such magic until Master gets his wand!"

A magic wand. That was what Harry was most interested in. "Let's go get one then!" he said excitedly.

"But, Master, you won't be able to get one until you're eleven!" Nettle said.

"Oh." Harry deflated. "Nevermind then." He had been so excited about getting started with magic right away. But he supposed patience was a virtue. "Let's go look at something else then." He saw a group of people crowded around a display case, and his curiosity pulled him towards the crowd. To his surprise, the display case was showing…a broom?

"Look at that! The newest Cleansweep model!" A boy, slightly younger than Harry, was jumping up and down in excitement.

"So what? Cleansweeps don't have anything over the Nimbuses," another boy replied, rolling his eyes. "They don't go nearly as fast."

Oh…so brooms were a transportation method. But Cleansweeps? Nimbuses? The names made no sense to Harry. However, the brooms on display simply intrigued him. There was something just _fascinating _about riding a broom. "Hey, Nettle, how much do brooms generally cost?"

"They range, Master Harry, sir!" Nettle squeaked, holding onto Harry so that she wouldn't get separated from him in the crowd. "Some are really cheap while others are really expensive, up to several thousand Galleons!" She added as an afterthought, "Master can get one for only several dozen Galleons, although those don't work as well."

Harry reached for a copy of _Which Broomstick_, which was lying on a stack underneath the display case, and said, "I think I'll order one later. I don't know anything about brooms." He straightened up and continued down the street, wishing for the hundredth time that he had about eleven more eyes. There were still so many shops to explore!

"Excuse me, dear…Pardon, but I really have to get through…"

Harry looked towards the voice and saw a squat, middle-aged witch trying to get through a crowd into Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. The witch, who Harry assumed was Madam Malkin, was carrying several boxes of readymade robes that reached over her head, blocking her view. She appeared somewhat frazzled due to the fact that her shop had almost ten people waiting simultaneously for her to fit their robes. Deciding to help the poor witch out, Harry turned to Nettle and said, "Go home, okay, Nettle? I'll be safe and call on you when I need you." (Not used to owning house elves, he had not realized that Nettle could have helped…)

The house elf reluctantly nodded. "Master be safe!" she said before disappearing with a crack.

Harry approached the jostled lady and asked, "Um, can I help you, Madam?" He wasn't really sure what he could do to help, but he might as well ask.

The witch glanced over her shoulder at him and said, "It's really quite alright, dear…" She was interrupted when someone bumped into her, causing her to drop two boxes. Still carrying three boxes, she sighed and said, "I'm sorry, dear, but could you pick those up for me?"

Harry wasn't sure if he _could_ pick up two boxes. They did seem large and heavy – at least to him. However, he attempted to anyway. To his surprise, the boxes weighed almost nothing – it was clearly due to magic.

"Thank you, dear," Madam Malkin said tiredly, grateful to be able to see above the boxes. "Put them on the counter over there…yes, that's it…"

"Do you need anything else, Madam Malkin?" Harry asked, eager to help.

"You're a sweet boy, but I…well…" The witch glanced at her line of customers and then sighed again. "Well, if neither you nor your parents mind, it would be nice to have a bit of help around here."

"I'm sure my parents won't mind." And Harry was. It struck him as odd that Madam Malkin didn't have any assistants to help her around the shop, but he didn't bring it up. And all that afternoon, he recorded measurements, fetched supplies, carried rolls of cloth back and forth, unpacked the robes, organized the clothes…By the time they were finished, it was already dark outside.

As the last customer left the shop, Madam Malkin turned to Harry and smiled, even though she did appear exhausted. "Thank you so much, dear, for your help today. I hope I didn't trouble your parents too much," she said. "They must be worried sick about you. It's past dark, and…I'm so sorry, dear. It was just so busy today that I didn't even pay attention to the time…So irresponsible of me…" She shook her head anxiously. "Do your parents know you're here? When are they coming to pick you up?"

Harry blinked. "My parents are dead," he said simply, despite the coldness that suddenly gripped his heart as the words came out of his mouth.

Madam Malkin stared, not understanding. Then she gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry…but..." A look of confusion crossed her face.

"My parents died…but I was sure that they wouldn't mind me helping out," Harry explained, swinging his legs innocently on the stool. Then he jumped off and said, "Don't worry, Madam Malkin. I had fun today."

The witch, for the first time since Harry met her, relaxed. "I'm sorry, dear. I really was out of it today. I didn't even know your name, and I practically employed you for a day! What's your name?"

Harry beamed. "Harry. Harry Potter."

Madam Malkin's eyes widened, her jaw dropped open. She blinked. And blinked again. "_Harry Potter?"_

Harry nodded. "It was really nice meeting you, Madam Malkin."

"It…It can't be…" The witch swallowed nervously before gesturing to his forehead. "Can I?" she asked.

"Sure?" Harry had no idea what she was about to do, but if it was going to convince her that he really was who he said he was, then he wasn't about to complain. To his surprise, he felt her slender fingers lift up his bangs. At that moment, he realized that she was checking for his scar.

"You…you really are Harry Potter," she said, his eyes wide with awe as she slipped her hand away from his hair. "I can't believe this," she muttered to herself. "_Harry Potter _was here, working in my shop, and I didn't even realize it."

Harry remembered Dumbledore saying something about him being famous in the Wizarding World. Despite him not liking the idea of being famous for something his parents had done for him, he liked Madam Malkin, even though she was acting all starstruck around him. "I'm just curious, Madam Malkin, but don't you have people to help you around the shop? I mean, it seems like a popular place to maintain all by yourself."

The witch's expression quickly changed from amazement to sadness. "I used to, dear. I used to. Twilfit and Tatting used to work here as my assistants as well as apprentices. However, they didn't like the types of customers that I welcome into my shop, so just recently, they left to open up their own business – Twilfit and Tatting's. And it's difficult finding new help willing to learn the trade."

"Types of customers?" Harry asked, curious. He didn't understand that part. Weren't shopkeepers supposed to welcome everyone into their stores?

Madam Malkin shook her head, looking somewhat uncomfortable with the subject. "It's a terrible prejudice, dear. The notion that those whose parents are magical are better than those whose parents aren't. It's…it's rubbish. I've seen many a talented witch or wizard whose parents have not even a clue as to what magic is until they receive their child's Hogwarts letter. It has nothing to do with magical ancestry and everything to do with magical talent and hard work."

Prejudice? Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed and shocked. At a subconscious level, he had thought of the Wizarding World as being perfect…or nearly perfect anyway - even though logic told him otherwise. He would have never guessed that prejudices existed.

"But anyway…it is very busy around here, especially without those two to help out." She looked at Harry. "Well, thank you, Harry, dear, for your help today. It was very kind of you."

Suddenly, Harry had an idea that would knock several birds down with one stone. He had heard the witches and wizards gossip while getting their robes, and he really did need to learn more about the magical world he was in. And Madam Malkin was nice and could use a bit of help. And he enjoyed working at the shop that day and wouldn't mind learning a bit more about that line of work. "Madam Malkin, do you think I can help out…every day? I'm not Twilfit or Tatting, and I doubt I'll be as good. But if you teach me a bit of the trade, I promise I'll work hard."

Madam Malkin's eyebrows shot up into her forehead. Will the surprises never end around this child? "I doubt you want to work here, dear. You're very young, and it can get hectic around here. Twilfit and Tatting already finished their Hogwarts education by the time they came here to work."

"Please, Madam Malkin? I do want to work here. You're really nice and friendly, and I enjoyed working here today, even if it was a little busy."

Madam Malkin glanced at him guiltily before turning away. "I can't believe this. I'm actually desperate enough to consider this. I must be crazy, hiring a child like you around my shop…But, I really could do with some help around here." She sighed and turned to him. "Alright, I'll hire you, but if you ever need a break in the day, say so. And…wait, but don't you have a guardian at least? So I can talk to them about this?" she asked anxiously.

Harry shook his head. "I used to, but not anymore." Seeing the look on the witch's face, he added quickly, "I can take care of myself. Really, I can!"

"Dear, I don't feel right about doing this…"

"Please hire me!" Harry pleaded. "I'm willing to learn the trade and everything!"

With that, she caved. "Well, if you're certain…"

Harry nodded. "I am."

"Well, then, as for your salary…" Madam Malkin furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "How about a Galleon an hour?"

Harry shook his head. Despite not knowing that much about wizard currency, he had a feeling that that was a lot of money for what he was doing. "I don't need a lot of money, Madam Malkin. Maybe a Knut an hour?"

The witch folded her arms stubbornly. "You must be crazy if you think I'm going to let you work on such a low wage."

"Two Knuts?" Harry asked hopefully. This must be one of the strangest situations he had ever found himself in. He was trying to convince his employer to give him a smaller wage… "I swear! I don't need that much money!"

"A Sickle's the lowest I'll go," Madam Malkin said firmly. Then she softened her tone. "You can't even allow me to assuage my guilt of having a child work in my store, Harry? That wage is one of the lowest in Diagon Alley."

Harry grinned. "Of course not." Then he frowned. "A Sickle an hour still seems a bit much…"

"The lowest I'll go." Madam Malkin smiled. "You're a sweet child, Harry, but I can't take advantage of that too much now, can I? Now, a day in Diagon Alley is fairly flexible from a shopkeeper's point of view, but for most stores, they open at around nine in the morning. So tomorrow, come a bit earlier, maybe around eight, and I'll start teaching you a bit…" Then her eyes narrowed, as though she had just realized something. "Dear,_ what in the heavens are you wearing?_"

Harry looked down at himself. He was still wearing his cousin's ill-fitting hand-me-downs – a pair of worn out sneakers, baggy jeans that were too long for him and that required a belt to keep them from slipping down his waist, and an oversized red sweater – uncomfortable wear for the rather warm weather. Interestingly enough, there were no robes (or any clothing, for that matter) in any one of the spacious wardrobes and closets of Potter Manor – as though his parents had cleared them all out prior to moving out. Harry had been meaning to buy some in Diagon Alley but had forgotten in his awe and wonder of the place. "Er…" He grinned sheepishly. "I hadn't really had the chance to go shopping for clothes yet…"

"Come here, dear. It's past closing time, but I'll make an exception for you as thanks for your help today." Madam Malkin gently pushed Harry towards one of the mirrors lined up against the opposite wall of the store.

"It's okay, Madam Malkin. You don't have to…" Harry began but was interrupted.

"Nonsense, child! I don't have to anything, but I want to. You need _proper _clothing," the witch replied, waving her wand at the tape measure on the floor. It flew up into the air and began measuring Harry's arms, legs, torso, neck, chest, waist, and basically anything else it could measure that was part of Harry's body. "Hmm, you have a rather small frame…"

Harry smiled, never having anyone making such a fuss over what he would wear before. That evening, Madam Malkin sold him eight sets of robes and several cloaks at minimum price.

**Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! I'm back. Sorry, my laptop took longer to fix than I thought. Anyway, this chapter's a bit different from the others since it focuses on a third person perspective on Harry. Rather than being first-person limited from Harry's point of view, it's first-person limited from other characters' point of views.**

"And you each gentle animal in confidence may bind, and make them follow at your call if you are always kind."

The song _Mary Had a Little Lamb_

Chapter Four: Priceless

Several months had passed, and Harry was very happy working at Madam Malkin's shop. Like all occupations, it had its ups and downs, but overall, he was content. He learned his way around the shop, the names of different fabrics and cloths, and simple designs of robes. He loved the feel of the cloaks, the sight of the differently colored fabrics, and the smell of robes ironed with scented water. He enjoyed listening in on the gossip of the witches and wizards who came in to be fitted for robes. It was a peaceful routine that felt like paradise after his life at the Dursleys.

"So I told you my cousin was still in Hogwarts, right? He was in love with this girl from Ravenclaw and tried to get her to drink a love potion. I told him he was being an idiot, but since when does that prat listen to me? Filch confiscated his love potion order since it's one of those things that can't be taken into Hogwarts, and he, that's right, my cousin – the worst potioneer in the history of Hogwarts, decided to brew his own love potion." The young man made an exasperated hand gesture and then realizing his mistake, quickly apologized to Madam Malkin, who was adjusting the sleeves of his robes to fit him.

"Are you serious?" his female companion asked, careful not to move so that Harry could record her measurements as he read them off the tape measure. "He can't even brew a decent cure for boils! Snape blew a gasket that day when he melted his entire cauldron _and _landed half the class into the hospital wing!"

"I know, right? Well, I didn't tell him I told him so, but I did warn him. He ended up brewing a hate potion instead, and the girl ended up jinxing him all the way down the Charms corridor. I was like 'Nice going, mate.'"

Already familiar with some of the terms and references that the two teenagers were throwing at each other, Harry decided at that moment to chime in, "It's a pity. Maybe if he hadn't decided to give that to her, she might have been impressed that he could manage to brew a decent hate potion!"

"Yeah, and maybe they could fall in love and get married over the hate potion. What irony," the young man replied, chuckling. "But as it is, no girl in her right mind from Ravenclaw would ever fall in love with that guy. I feel kinda bad for him actually. I mean, look at the girls from that House!" He jerked his head towards his companion, who blushed at the compliment.

"You are really pretty," Harry commented, smiling.

The girl's face reddened even further. "Jack, don't go around telling little kids to say that." However, it was clear that she was pleased, her laughing eyes giving her away.

Jack laughed. "I didn't, Serena." Then he turned to mock-glare at Harry. "And you, back away from my fiancée."

"But then she would end up with only half her dress robes fitting right," Harry replied teasingly. "I don't think Miss Serena would appreciate that at her wedding. She might end up jinxing _you_ all the way down the aisle."

Serena laughed at that. "I like you. You're cute."

Jack pouted. "I can't believe this. I have competition from a seven-year-old."

"I'm eight, Master Jack."

"Eight-year-old then. That makes it loads better."

At this, all of them laughed, even Madam Malkin. When the customers left, the witch turned to Harry. "Good job today, Harry. How about we go get a bite to eat at the Flaming Dragon's across the street?"

Harry nodded eagerly. They had been working all morning, and by now, he was starving. The Flaming Dragon's was his favorite café, too. It was small, popular but not too crowded, and brightly lit – unlike the Leaky Cauldron. And the food was good, too, albeit a bit spicy.

After they entered the café, sat down at their favorite spot, and ordered their favorite meal choices, Harry asked his mentor, "Madam Malkin, I was just wondering…could you tell me more about Quidditch? I heard a lot of people talking about it the last few weeks, but I don't really understand the game. And the broomsticks, too. I was thinking about getting one, but I don't know what to get."

"Quidditch?" The witch hummed thoughtfully. "Well, basically, all the players ride on broomsticks. There are several types of balls and positions to play. The goal of the Chasers is to put the Quaffle, one of the balls, through the opponents' hoops. The Keeper defends his team's hoops. The Bludgers are balls that go around trying to smack people off their brooms." She shivered. "Nasty little things. But on each team, there are two Beaters, who try to hit the Bludgers away from their fellow teammates." She paused. "I think that's all…no, nevermind, there's another position to play. The Seeker on each team tries to find the golden Snitch before the other team's Seeker to end the game and give their team the win…I forgot how many points it was, but let's just say a lot. Rarely does a team lose the game when its Seeker catches the Snitch."

"What's the best broom to buy if I'm just beginning?" Harry asked, pulling out his copy of _Which Broomstick_.

Madam Malkin raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't recommend you learn how to fly before going to Hogwarts, dear. It's dangerous without someone there to watch out for you in case your boom goes out of control, you fall off, or something of that nature. After you get your flying lessons and know how to control a broom, it isn't that bad, but before that, things can really get out of control. Especially on brooms designed for playing Quidditch. Those brooms are fast and not designed for beginners."

"Oh…" Harry wondered if the house elves' magic would work, but then again, he didn't want to risk it. Maybe he'll ask about that later.

"However, if you do end up playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, I recommend the Nimbuses. They're the fastest brooms available. The latest model is the Nimbus 1900." The witch sipped her tea before cutting into her chicken. "I'm not an obsessive Quidditch fan, but my husband is. So he updates me on these things."

Harry flipped through the catalog. Then, when he found what he was looking for, his eyes bulged. "That broom costs three thousand Galleons!"

Madam Malkin nodded in agreement. "Those brooms are expensive. That's why most people are willing to go with the Comets or the Cleansweeps. They're cheaper, even though they're not as good."

"I wish I know how to fly," Harry said longingly before putting the catalog away and sipping at his smoothie. Although he was surprised at the price, it wasn't the money he was worried about. He had a feeling that he could easily afford it. But there was no point though since he didn't know how to fly.

"Wishes…that reminds me, Harry, dear. When's your birthday? You have been working with me for nearly a year now, so that means you must be turning nine sometime soon, right?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well…I actually don't know."

"You don't know?" Madam Malkin stopped eating to stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"I…well…" Harry swallowed. "I know it's some time in the summer, but I don't really have the specific date. I just wait for the summer to pass before I say I'm nine, or ten, or whichever the next number is." It always embarrassed him to admit it, the few times someone cared enough to ask. The Dursleys never cared about his birthday, and so, his birthdays came and went like every other day until he only had a vague idea of when it was.

Madam Malkin widened her eyes before frowning. "What kind of guardians did you have, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, not wanting to remember. "They weren't the nicest people I met." He closed his eyes, taking a long sip of his smoothie. "I'm happy now though. And that's all that matters, right, Madam Malkin?" He opened his eyes slightly, his gaze lowered.

Madam Malkin was quiet for a while before she replied, "Yes. Yes, I suppose so."

…

"Good afternoon, Madam Malkin."

The witch looked up from her sewing. "Oh, good afternoon, Albus. What brought you here today? Need new robes? Cloaks? Or are you just here to check up on Harry again?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "You know me too well, my good witch. Where is young Harry?"

"He's doing what he's always doing during his breaks – staring at that Nimbus 1900 display case as though mesmerized by it." Madam Malkin sighed and put down her sewing. "That boy is obsessed with flying. I don't think he has any room left in his head for anything besides broomsticks and fabrics."

"That obsessive is he?" Dumbledore chuckled again. Somehow, he didn't find that the least surprising. "I wouldn't be surprised if he becomes a future Quidditch star."

"Oh, I'm not so certain about that, Albus." Madam Malkin shook her head. "I can see him being a tailor. He has a natural gift for it, an eye and a hand for it actually. One glance at a person, and that boy can choose the perfect cloak design and color. Forgive me if I sound like I'm exaggerating, but he's advancing through all the techniques faster than Twilfitt and Tattings!"

"He is one talented boy," Dumbledore said as he sat down on a stool across from the seamstress.

"I have no doubts about that." She paused. "But I do worry about him sometimes. He's such a nice boy. But he seems…I don't know the word for it. I've never seen him having fun with other children his age. And he never asks for a break – he only stops working when I bring it up. While he is good help, I'm afraid that his childhood would slip away from him if he keeps this up."

Dumbledore was silent for a while. "I'm afraid that his childhood already had, Madam Malkin. He's seen things no child should. But I think he's doing well in spite of all that."

"I see…" She closed her eyes. "Such a sweet child. If I could have a child, I imagine it to be just like him. Is it strange, Albus, that I consider him like a son?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No. Not at all. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he considers you a motherly figure."

…

As she walked past Quality Quidditch Supplies on her way home, Madam Malkin saw the Nimbus 1900 on display. How many times had Harry stared longingly at that one item? She had seen his eyes shone as he stood there, dreaming of flying on it. She approached the display case, staring at the price. "So expensive," she whispered. Buying the broom would suck her savings dry. As crazy as it sounded, she wanted to buy Harry that broom for his birthday, which, according to Dumbledore, was July 31. Just imagining his eyes light up was enough to give her an incentive. The only problem was that she can't – not with the amount of money she had. Besides…Harry didn't even know how to fly. But at the same time…it was the only material item that Harry seemed to really want. He had never asked for anything else.

"I never knew you were so interested in Quidditch, Madam Malkin. Therefore, I must assume that you're thinking of Harry."

The witch turned to see Dumbledore staring at the display case. She sighed. "It's so expensive though…"

Dumbledore's voice was soft as he commented, "You know, Harry has more than enough money to buy this broom."

Madam Malkin's eyes widened. "You can't be serious, Albus!"

Dumbledore smiled. "He is one of the richest people in Great Britain."

"I wonder why he doesn't buy himself the broom if he wants it so much," she said, shaking her head.

"He might have thought that there was no point to it since he doesn't know how to fly yet. He's not a careless spender."

Madam Malkin was silent. She did tell him that it was dangerous for him to learn how to fly on his own. But maybe if she watched out for him… "Albus, would you think it unwise for him to learn how to fly at such a young age?"

Dumbledore considered it for a moment. "No. In fact, I think it would be good for him." He closed his eyes. In fact, he wasn't the least bit worried about Harry. He easily remembered James Potter's natural talent in the air. He was phenomenal, combining both grace and strength on the broom. If Harry was any near talented as his father was in the air, then Madam Malkin should have no worries.

"I know you said he has enough money to buy it for himself," Madam Malkin began. "But I want to buy it for him…I want to do so much for him. But this much money would wipe my savings dry. But at the same time…it's the only item he seemed to have ever wanted. Have you ever had this feeling, Albus? That you just want to do everything you can for someone, even if it requires risks? Even if it sounds ridiculous and foolish?"

Dumbledore opened his eyes. "Sometimes."

'That's how I feel right now. I'm considering doing something as absurd as wiping out my entire savings to buy the boy the broom that he could easily get himself."

The elderly wizard smiled sadly. "Well, I can honestly say Harry never had someone feel that way about him before."

"Oh, you can be honest, Albus. I have my suspicions about how his previous guardians treated him. My guess is they treated him very poorly. But that's not why I want to do so much for him…It's not as though I feel I should recompense him for all those years that he was treated badly. I just _want _to make him happy."

"I think just knowing that someone cares about him so much would make him the happiest boy alive."

"That's the thing, Albus. He gets happy over the smallest things people do for him. Yet he's willing to do so much more for others, putting his heart and soul into it. That aspect makes me just want to go all out for him. The easier it is to make him happy, the more I want to do to make him so."

Dumbledore looked up at the night sky. "It is strange sometimes how our feelings work." Sighing, he said, "I need to get back to Hogwarts, so if you'll excuse me, Madam Malkin…"

"Wait, Albus. What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"I was hoping to buy the new book from Flourish and Blotts before they close, but it seems as though I just missed it."

"I see. Well, then, good night, Albus."

"Good night, Madam Malkin."

...

"Madam Malkin, what's going on?" Harry asked curiously as the witch covered his eyes with her hands and led him into a dark room.

"Shh, dear. You'll like it." The seamstress knew he would. Several times, she wondered how she could have possibly emptied her vault for something crazy as this. But the picture she had in her mind of Harry's reaction usually pushed the guilt back. Finally she uncovered Harry's eyes.

Harry widened his eyes. On a long desk, where he usually ironed robes, was a sight he was very familiar with. There was no mistake. It was the Nimbus 1900.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Madam Malkin whispered in Harry's ear. "I'll help you learn to fly."

Harry swallowed. His shoulders trembled. "But, Madam Malkin…"

"Don't worry about the price, Harry. Don't think about it."

Harry stared at the present in disbelief. How many times had Dudley been spoiled by the amount of presents he received? How many times had Dudley's presents piled high on the Dursleys' table? And yet here…Harry's first birthday present was…beyond what words could say.

A long silence ensued, and Madam Malkin was starting to worry. "Harry…?" She stopped, her eyes wide.

_Drip. Drip._

Tears ran down Harry's cheeks. His eyes were closed. "Thank you, Madam Malkin. You have no idea how much this means to me." Then, in one motion, he flung himself into her arms. "Thank you so much…thank you, thank you, thank you…" It wasn't the money. It was never the money. It was simple realization of how much Madam Malkin loved him that sent him into tears.

"Oh, dear…" She ran her hand through Harry's hair while holding him to her chest. All remaining guilt about buying him the present escaped her mind. She never felt happier in her life. The child's joy was more than enough compensation.

…

"He's quite talented, don't you think, Madam Malkin?" Dumbledore asked.

"He gives me quite a few heart attacks already, Dumbledore. It scares me just to watch him." Madam Malkin sipped her tea, her eyes focused on Harry's figure in the air. "But, yes, Albus. I've never seen someone so talented in the air."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling. He was having a wonderful afternoon. Invited over for tea at Madam Malkin's home, he was able to see Harry's flying skills for himself. The reality confirmed his predictions. Harry wasn't only just talented. He was _gifted._

Harry leaned down until his broom was almost vertical with the ground and sped towards the earth.

Madam Malkin's eyes bulged.

"Calm, Madam Malkin. Calm. I'm sure he knows what he's doing." Dumbledore watched Harry, however, with his hand fingering his wand. Surprising to even him, Harry didn't stop even when he was fifteen feet from the ground. At the speed he was diving, there was no way he can stop…Dumbledore stood up, his wand out, determined to stop Harry's imminent crash.

Five feet from the ground, Harry turned so that his broom flew to the side. He leaned to the side, and the broom made a dramatic turn that sent dust up in the air. Harry's elbow grazed the grass. Although he lost some momentum, he quickly brought the handle of his broom up, and he once again accelerated into the air.

Dumbledore blinked. How…? It was unbelievable. Five feet from the ground. Flying at full speed. After a few moments of shock, he smiled and sat down again. "Yes. I can see why he's a recipe for a heart attack."

Madam Malkin nodded fondly. "But I've never seen him so happy. He flies on the broom every break he has. I feel as though that boy does nothing else in his free time." She smiled. "Although he has given me a few heart attacks already, my heart still thrills whenever I see him fly. I've never seen anyone look so _alive_."

"You have no regrets in buying him that broom?"

"None whatsoever. My vault still isn't as full as it originally was, but it's building back quickly. And Harry's happy. What is there to regret about?" She turned to him. "Do you think he knows he's talented?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "From what I know about him, probably not."

"Madam Malkin, throw me a ball!" Harry called from the air.

To Dumbledore's surprise, the seamstress pulled out a small ball from her pocket. She drew her arm back and threw it as far as she could. Dumbledore squinted, but the ball disappeared from his view. However, Harry simply leaned forward and the next moment, he was whooping with the ball caught in his hand.

"Seeker?"

Madam Malkin nodded. "And to think he's only nine."

"I think that's a wonderful age to start developing talent." Dumbledore sipped his tea. "Ah…children these days."

"Will you be staying for lunch, Albus?"

"It would be my pleasure. I would especially love to see any other moves Harry can pull off while in the air."

"Then you're in for a show. And a heart attack."

"It's alright. I'm old. Dying of a heart attack wouldn't be so bad. Especially since I'm seeing something that many would die to see."

**Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**There is a very awkward part later on in the chapter – just a warning for some people.**

"_I have called you each by name…I love you and you are mine."_

_-"You Are Mine," a Christian hymn_

Chapter Five: A Kind Owner

"I have a stable?"

The elderly house elf nodded vigorously. "Yes, Master Harry, Sir. And greenhouses, Sir. And much more, Sir!"

"I guess I should start to get to know my way around the place, shouldn't I?" he said, finally smiling. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Ever since he got his job at Madam Malkin's and started his flying experiences, he had forgotten he was the master of an entire estate. He needed to take care of everything. While the house elves did do most of the work, he shouldn't be neglecting everything. "Can you be my guide then?"

The elf nodded again. "Of course, Master Harry, Sir! Blinky will be happy to show you!"

Harry grinned. The house elves were so enthusiastic. He grabbed his cloak and followed Blinky to the stables. Harry had a feeling that not all the animals there were horses. And he was right.

The stables were found several yards apart from the manor, forming a semicircle. They were divided into several stalls from which neighing and screeching could be heard. Blinky walked up to the nearest stall and opened the door.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. He had been expecting a horse. And a horse did come out. However, it had wings.

"Master Harry, Sir, his name is Archer," Blinky said, leading the winged horse over to Harry.

Harry stared. Although it wasn't quite what he expected, it was magnificent. Its coat was a shiny black, and its mane and tail were light and silky. When it stretched its wings, the feathers splayed out gracefully, spanning a good ten feet at least. Its dark eyes met Harry's green ones. Harry swallowed nervously. It was much larger than he was.

As though sensing his master's nervousness, Archer leaned forward and nudged Harry playfully.

Harry flinched. Archer felt strong and powerful. He could probably trample Harry in a heartbeat. It wasn't an encouraging thought.

Seemingly hurt, the stallion retracted from Harry, snorting unhappily.

Harry glanced questioningly at Blinky, who appeared at a loss as to what to do. It was clear he wanted Harry to familiarize himself with the creature rather than be scared witless of it, but Blinky, like all house elves, couldn't give orders to his master and was afraid of displeasing him.

Harry swallowed. He had to do this. He approached the powerful creature and reached out with a shaking hand to pet it on the nose. He flinched when Archer leaned into his touch but didn't pull away. After a moment, Harry reached out with his other hand and rubbed the side of Archer's muzzle. The creature stayed perfectly still, except for the occasional flicking of its tail, as Harry got himself comfortable with him. "Sorry," Harry apologized softly. "It's just I've never met such a large creature like you before. I just need some time to get used to it. It's not your fault or anything like that…"

Archer's ears twitched as he blinked.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Can you understand me?"

"He can't, Sir, but he can interpret the tones in your voice," Blinky squeaked. "And he knows you're his master. He can recognize your scent as similar to your ancestors."

Harry smiled when Archer closed his eyes, as though relishing under his touch. "Archer," Harry tried his name out. For some reason, the name fitted the creature well.

Archer's ears twitched at the sound of his name, and he opened his eyes.

Harry felt Blinky press something into his hand and looked down to see that it was parts of a harness. It was clear that he was supposed to learn how to _ride _Archer. Harry gulped. Flying on a broomstick was one thing, but flying on a horse? The bridle felt unfamiliar in his hands. "Blinky…I've never ridden before…how do I, well, put this on him?" Harry asked uncertainly. He studied the material in his hands and, remembering the cartoons Dudley used to watch, recognized where several of the pieces were supposed to go. Gesturing questioningly at Blinky, Harry got the confirmation that he needed. It took some time (as well as trial and error) to put it on Archer, but the winged horse was patient, doing its best to remain still during the process.

Harry licked his lips as he stood back. "Is that okay, Blinky?" A quick glance at the elf told him that he did it right. Now to get on its back…Harry frowned. There was no way he can reach that high.

"Master James used to use what he called the 'run, leap, and push' method, Master Harry, Sir," Blinky offered. "He would run, jump, and then use his hands to help push himself up. It takes a bit of practice, Sir."

Harry blinked. "Run, leap, and push?" he repeated.

"Yes, Sir."

Harry stepped back, muttering to himself, "Who would have thought my dad knew how to ride…?" Somehow, he really doubted this would work, but well…if his dad used it…He sprinted towards Archer, and when he thought he was close enough, he jumped. "Oof!" Harry's arms were on Archer's back. However, he couldn't pull himself up. Grunting with effort, trying as he might, he couldn't pull himself up. "Oh, Merlin…" Harry gave up and slid down.

Archer let out a snort and shook his head.

"Oh, shut it, you," Harry grumbled. "It's your fault you're too tall." Archer nudged him apologetically, making Harry laugh, surprising even himself. The winged horse wasn't bad company once Harry got over his size. And, for Harry at least, he found that he was able to understand what Archer was trying to say quite easily simply by reading his body language. It was like understanding Riley…Harry pushed the dull ache in his heart away. He opted instead to brush his hand gently through the horse's mane. Just then, he realized something. "Don't they wear saddles?" he asked.

Blinky shook his head. "Winged horses don't like saddles, Master Harry, Sir."

"Oh…ouch." Harry had a feeling his bottom was going to be quite sore…

"Wizards use the cushioning charm, Sir. That's enough to distribute their weight evenly."

"Oh." Of course wizards didn't use saddles. What was Harry thinking?

"It will take some practice, Sir, before you can get on his back without help." Blinky carried a stool over, and set it beside Archer.

Harry understood the cue and climbed onto the stool before jumping onto Archer's back. His bottom felt something soft, and he realized that there was a cushioning charm already applied. He felt Archer's wings shook open in eagerness. "Wait, wait, wait a second, Archer!" he said laughingly. "Slow down!" He grabbed the reins, but they felt foreign to him. He had never controlled an animal in such a way before. Once his mount settled down, Harry flicked the reins, testing to see what it would do.

Archer started out in a walk before accelerating to a gallop. Once they passed the doors to the stables, Archer spread his wings and ascended to the air.

Harry held onto the reins tightly. Archer shook his head slightly. Realizing that he might be hurting the other, Harry relaxed his grip and settled to lean as close as he can to Archer's back instead.

…

"Welcome back, Master Harry, Sir!" Blinky said when Harry led Archer back to the stables once it started getting dark outside.

Harry had spent several hours experimenting with the reins and flying over the forests below. By the end of the day, he was pretty sure he could work the reins right. He loved the experience. It was just like flying on a broomstick, only his mount was alive. "Thanks."

"Master Harry, Sir, you haven't met all the others yet!" Blinky said.

"Do I have to ride them all?" Harry asked, gaping. He needed sleep!

"Oh, no, Sir. Just for familiarization!" Blinky led Archer back into his stall. "Archer's the easiest to work with, Sir. But some of the others can be worse." With that, he began to lead Harry to each stall, introducing each winged horse by name, temperament, and habits. In total, there were seven of them. "There is one more, Sir, but she is very nervous!"

"Nervous?" Harry asked. "Why? I won't bite. She could probably hurt me more than I could her."

"It's her past, Sir. Your grandfather bought her from an abusive owner, Sir, just before he died. It's more difficult for her to trust. Her name is Star, Sir." Blinky opened the stall door and coaxed a beautiful white winged horse from her stall. She was smaller than the others but seemed also the most graceful in both flight and gallop.

Harry liked her immediately. However, he frowned when he noticed crisscross patterns on her flank where the small hairs were even paler than the rest of her.

"She doesn't take well to reins, Sir. Her previous riders liked pulling her head back to have high head carriage. It's believed that a beast of good training would hold her head high."

Harry's eyes couldn't stray off her large brown ones. He reached forward to pet her.

Star was staring at him with wide eyes, her ears pinned against her head. However, she didn't back away.

Harry stopped his movement. From his point of view, it was clear she was frightened of him. "I won't bite," he began, trying to making his voice as comforting as possible. "I swear it, Star." He smiled when her ears twitched towards him. "That's right. I won't hurt you." He stood there, his hand still outstretched, deciding it would be better for her to approach him rather than vice versa. "Good masters don't hurt, as Dumbledore said."

Star watched him carefully, still not moving.

"Look, I have nothing to hurt you with," Harry said, showing both his hands. He took a step forward. Slowly. He can imagine himself in Star's shoes…er, hooves. If Vernon had approached him like this, he would have been skittish, too. He was encouraged that her ears were still pointing towards him. She was listening. "That's right. I won't hurt you," he whispered. "I swear I won't. Let me touch you, Star. You'll see."

Star still stared back at him with frightened eyes.

"She won't back away, Sir," Blinky said quietly. "She's been trained not to do that or else, she'd be punished, Sir."

Harry frowned and stopped his advance, bothered by that fact. "She can come to me on her own terms then," he said softly. He smiled sadly. "It's alright, Star. I won't force you to accept me. But I would like it very much if you do."

Star seemed to relax slightly as Harry back away from her. She shifted anxiously.

"Blinky, what do these horses eat?" Harry asked.

"It depends on the breed, Sir. Star likes chocolate."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Well, that confirmed it more than anything that theses "horses" were anything like the muggle horses. He was expecting her to like apples or the like. "Er…okay. Blinky, could you get me a piece of chocolate?"

"Yes, Sir, Master Harry." Blinky disappeared only to reappear again in record time. The two cracks were barely distinguishable. He handed a bar of dark chocolate over to Harry, who unwrapped it and broke off a piece.

Harry grinned when Star's eyes lit up slightly, scared but interested. Of course, the best way to get to her heart was through her stomach…or mouth – either way worked for him. He held out the piece of chocolate in his hand. "Come on, Star," he said gently, whistling like he used to do with Riley. "I won't hurt you." He threw the piece of chocolate into the air and to his surprise, she did a little jump to catch the morsel in her mouth. "Good girl," he said encouragingly. He repeated the action with the same result. He continued to bait her, each time throwing the candy closer and closer to where he stood. Finally, when she was close enough for him to touch her, he offered the rest of the candy in his hand.

Star hesitated. Then she reached forward tentatively.

Harry stayed still, allowing her to eat out of his hand. It seemed his game with her relaxed her. As she ate, he let his hands roam. He knew Riley had certain spots he liked to be touched, but chances were that Star was different. As he touched her in different places, he carefully watched her reaction. He didn't know too much about winged horses, so he'll have to learn by trial and error how to read their body language. He knew Riley would wag his tail whenever he touched him in the right spot…Harry grinned. He found it. When he rubbed the area between Star's wings, where the neck met the back, her eyes drooped slightly, and her tail swung. She didn't pant like Riley did, but she was clearly relaxing. "You like it, Star?" he asked, combing the fingers of his other hand through her mane.

Star didn't respond, except by continuing to flick her tail back and forth.

"You're just like me, aren't you?" Harry asked, a touch of fondness in his voice. She was trained to obey. But just because she didn't run away didn't mean that he gained her trust. "But if you call me not running away from Vernon trust, I don't know what you would call distrust." After a while, Harry turned to Blinky. "I think we're good for today, Blinky. I'm tired, and I'm sure Star is, too."

"Yes, Sir, Master Harry!" Blinky saluted, his eyes staring at Harry with clear adoration.

Harry chuckled. As they walked back to the manor, he listened attentively as Blinky described to him the thestral herd in the forest nearby. Were all of his family members animal lovers?

…

Harry stood in front of the mirror and gently slid his robes off, dropping them to the floor. He turned and looked backwards at the mirror. Pale scars crisscrossed his slightly tan back. They were so similar to Star's. _We're not really that different, _he thought as he pulled his pajamas on. _She's a winged horse, and I'm a human. But really…we're not that different._

…

Harry spent several weeks working with the stables. He read on the winged horses, studied the notes his ancestors made on each, and familiarized himself with the creatures. Sometimes he'd even sleep in the stables, only to wake up and realize that he couldn't go to Madam Malkin's store smelling like the stables. He spent so much time with the winged beasts that they learned to recognize his voice, each greeting him in a different way when he entered the stables.

However, he loved Star the most. She was the gentlest creature he had ever met. After their first session, she relaxed more around him, so when he came around to check on her, she would nudge him gently. And her eyes always held sadness in them – just like his own if he were being honest with himself.

Today, he was going to try something new. "Come on, Star. Come here, girl," he coaxed her out of her stall.

Star obeyed without much hesitation. Now for the hard part.

Harry held up the bridle. As expected, Star's ears once again pinned themselves against her head, and he could see the whites of her eyes. She didn't move, but he could tell she was frightened. He put the bridle down and coaxed her closer towards him. He placed a hand on the area between her wings, knowing it relaxed her, and said gently, "Calm down, Star. Relax. I won't hurt you. I never have and never will." He turned so that he was facing her and, looking her in the eye, whispered, "I will never hurt you. Never. Trust me. Will you do this for me, Star?" He knew she could neither understand his words nor answer them, but still he waited. When Star's eyes were entirely focused on him, he made his move. He reached down to pick up the reins. "See? There's nothing to be afraid of." He slowly showed her the bit, the noseband, the head crown… "Relax, Star…"

Star held still as Harry slid the bit into her mouth. Surprisingly, she did not hesitate to open her mouth to take in the bit, although Harry concluded that this must have been another doing of her previous owners. If someone was pushing a piece of metal into Harry's mouth, he would have resisted as much as he can get away with.

"Good girl, Star." He put on the rest of the headgear without much problem and then attached the reins. "Are you comfortable? Actually, don't answer that." He smiled. "You'll get used to it, Star." Using the stool to assist him, he got onto her back. He licked his lips nervously. He read about all the instances when riders caused pain to their mounts by improperly pulling on their heads. Good riders could control without need of force or pain – just pressure. He didn't want to hurt her. He swallowed, remembering the notes one of his ancestors made. A gentle kick to the side to start her moving.

Star began to move.

Harry patted between her wings. "Good job, Star…" A flick of the reigns to signal flight.

Star accelerated to a gallop and once out of the stables spread her wings out for flight. She was clearly used to commands.

_Do not pull back hard against the reins. This will hurt them. _Harry relaxed his grip on the reins even though they were accelerating. Once they were high enough above the ground, Star's wings stilled except for an occasional flap. Harry smiled, petting her mane. "Good girl…" He leaned down until he was lying almost flat on her back. The world below appeared so small. He closed his eyes. "I know I'm not the most experienced owner, Star. I make mistakes. But I'm trying my best." He combed his fingers through her mane. Even though Star didn't respond, Harry had a feeling she understood.

…

"Dragons?" Harry asked stupidly as he trudged through the forest with Blinky.

"Yes, Sir. Dragons guard the mountain ranges on the north side of the island. They never leave the mountains, Master Harry, Sir. All were raised by hand, Sir, so none are aggressive to humans."

"Uh…Blinky, how big are they?"

"Up to forty feet long, Sir!"

Harry gulped. "And did…uh…my ancestors ever thought to take a census?"

"Fourteen, Sir, were bought and raised. Six Opaleyes, two Common Welshes, two Short-Snouts, two Ridgebacks, and two Ironbellies, Sir. There might be more, Sir, by now due to breeding."

Harry swallowed. He was starting to think his ancestors were crazy. "Why so many Opaleyes?" he asked to soothe his nerves.

"They're the most peaceful and beautiful, Sir. Your great uncle had a fondness for them."

Yes, his ancestors were crazy. "So why do I have to meet these guys?"

"They have to know you, Sir. You need to salvage the bodies when they die for potion ingredients. Egg shells, too, Sir."

Harry nodded, feeling slightly sick. Salvage? Like dissecting? When they reached the base of the mountains, Harry jumped when he saw a large reptilian body blocking their way. Covered in white scales, the dragon was almost forty feet long. Her wings were folded against her body, and her multi-colored eyes were blinking blearily as though in pain. She was beautiful and magnificent. However, her obvious discomfort caught his attention. "Blinky…what's she doing?"

Blinky shifted nervously. "It's an Opaleye, Sir. Blinky's not sure, Sir. Blinky never worked with dragons before."

Harry licked his lips. She appeared to be in pain. Was she sick? Hurt? He turned slightly to view the rest of her body, and…saw how large her stomach was. She was pregnant and was trying to give birth. Harry's cheeks turned red. He had read some books on dragons, and he skimmed the reproduction section. But he never thought he would actually see one giving birth. He turned away, feeling that it was quite indecent of him to watch. What was she doing here anyway? Didn't dragons live in caves in the mountains?

"Opaleyes live in valleys, Sir. They prefer low ground," Blinky offered as though reading his thoughts.

The dragon let out a low moan of pain.

Harry turned to her, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to leave her in pain like this. Slowly, carefully, apprehensively, he approached her. He knew dragon mothers were skittish, so he didn't want to startle her. Careful not to make sudden movements, he approached her head, keeping himself in her sight. Then he knelt down and petted her neck. "You're doing really well," he offered in a soothing voice.

She moaned again, her breathing coming out in heavy pants. Then, without further warning, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she stopped moving and breathing.

Harry widened his eyes. "No…" He recognized the signs only too well. She was dead. But why? He guessed that it probably had something to do with giving birth, but what? His curiosity led him to wander down the course of her body to where her reproductive organ should be. The exit for her eggs was bloody, and a steady stream of blood was leaving her womb. Frowning, he knelt down in front of her. Why was she bleeding so much?

"Sir…" Blinky squeaked tentatively. "Her eggs are still trapped inside her…"

Harry blinked. He had to get dirty. To save the eggs and find out why she died giving birth. Hands-on experience was the best way to learn as the saying went. He took off his cloak and rolled back the sleeves of his robes. Strangely, he didn't feel disgusted at the task he was about to do. He felt…_excited_. It was an opportunity to learn. He pushed apart the walls of her opening and grunting with effort, he dug with his hand inside her. Although she was dead, her body was still warm, and her opening was slick and moist. Feeling around, Harry's hand found something hard. Knowing he had found the egg, Harry pushed his other hand inside her, attempting to grab onto the egg and pull it out.

Suddenly a sharp pain made him yelp. "What the…?" The egg was sharp? Confused, Harry tugged at the egg. It was a difficult process, but after continuous pulling on the egg and pushing on the dragon's walls, Harry was finally able to yank the egg out. To his surprise, it wasn't an egg. It was an eggshell. His arms were covered in the dragon's blood, and his own hands were bleeding from cutting himself on the sharp edges of the shell. He quickly put two and two together – one of the eggs had broken while still inside the mother and she couldn't push it out. Furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, Harry reached inside the dragon again and pulled out the dead baby and the remaining eggshells. "Blinky, can you get me a bag to hold the eggshells and a jar to preserve this one?"

"Yes, Sir…"

Harry looked up to see Blinky looking slightly sick watching him before the elf Disapparated. Strangely, he didn't feel nauseous at all. He certainly felt sad. But not sick or disgusted at what he was doing. He gently set the baby on the ground and returned to his task. Dragons laid several eggs at once. Not just one.

When Blinky returned, Harry was panting on the ground, his arms covered in blood. "Master Harry, Sir, are you alright?"

Harry nodded and smiled tiredly. He pulled back the folds of his cloak, revealing the object that the cloak was wrapped around – a single pale gray egg, slightly streaked with blood. "Yeah, Blinky. I'm fine. This was the only egg that didn't break. I'm glad it made it." He stood up. "Now let's get all these things back to the Manor." With that, he placed the dragon fetuses each into a jar of a preservation solution. The eggshells he collected in the sack. "Can you get the body?" he asked Blinky, who nodded and levitated the mother's body.

Harry shouldered his sack and the four jars and held the precious egg in his other arm as they returned to the Manor, several miles away. He sighed at the length of the walk. He was going to need a serious bath when he got back.

…

"_Your dragon requires a lot of care during these first few months."_

Harry grabbed the book off the shelf and returned to his parlor, where the grey egg, cleaned of blood, lay on the table. Next to the egg were several of his ancestors' journals on breeding dragons. As he had asked, the house elves had started the fire in the fireplace. _"The egg should be placed in fire because the mother usually breathes fire on her eggs."_ He picked up the egg carefully with thongs and placed it in the fire. _"The length of time required for the egg to hatch is usually around a month."_

Harry got up and stretched. After a relaxing bath, he was ready to get dirty again. He walked down into his basement where there was a potions lab as well as another room containing the mother dragon's body. Harry entered that room and familiarized himself with the knives on the shelves. Again, there was that excited feeling inside him – the excitement for discovery and fulfillment of his natural curiosity. He pulled out a piece of parchment and an enchanted quill which would be able to take notes for him while he dissected the body. As he stood in front of the dragon's body, he couldn't help but be in awe. "You are a beautiful creature," he whispered solemnly, his hand brushing over the dragon's scales. "And I'm honored to be able to study you in this way."

And with that, he began to work with each body part. He carefully exercised what he had learned only from books and journals and skinned the creature first, allowing the blood to drip into a basin on the floor as the dragon floated in mid-air. He cleaned the skin and treated it, looking at it under a microscope and then rolling it up for storage. By the time he was done, it was already 4 in the morning, and he had to work in the morning at Madam Malkin's.

Harry knew his work was going to span over several days at least. In the end, he had several jars of dragon's blood, a roll of dragon skin, several tons of dragon meat, preserved organs, a cleaned and bleached skeleton that he reassembled and hung above the potions lab, and most importantly, parchment upon parchment of notes on dragon anatomy. In addition, he dissected the dragon fetuses, learning how much they had developed by time of birth.

…

Harry carefully pulled the egg out of the fire with tongs. He could feel it. It was almost time. He set it on the table. He had a bucket of brandy mixed with chicken blood ready next to him, and he had asked his house elves to get several more buckets ready.

Suddenly, the egg cracked, and a reptilian head slowly poked its way out of the shell. It whined weakly.

Harry smiled. Despite what the Ministry said about dragons being dangerous, baby dragons were certainly adorable. "Here, let me help you," he said tenderly. He picked off the piece of egg shell on the dragon's head.

The baby was as white as its mother. It clumsily made its way out of the egg and then collapsed on the table from exhaustion.

Harry chuckled. He took a towel and cleaned the creature before holding it in his arms, gently petting it on the head. "Ready to eat?" he asked, offering the bucket of brandy and chicken blood. He raised his eyebrows in shock when it devoured the entire bucket within five minutes. "Geez…you eat faster than Dudley," Harry commented.

The dragon blinked at him.

Harry couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. "You're adorable," he said again. "Just hold on a bit. Another bucket's being made."

It sneezed.

"We need a name for you, don't we?" Harry asked, staring at his charge for a while. He needed something that would fit him (he was pretty sure the dragon was male). Something that would hint at its later magnificence, if his mother's beauty was something to go by. Something ancient, too, as befitting a dragon. "Ferdinand."

The dragon looked up at him.

"Do you like it? Ferdinand." Harry grinned. "Come on. Let's get you another bucket of that stuff. You're supposed to eat one every half hour." He picked up his dragon and carried it into the kitchen.

…

Harry opened his eyes blearily. It was still dark. But someone was nudging him. He looked down to see a month old Ferdinand climb into bed with him. He groaned. Although his bed was huge, he would prefer not to share it with a scaly reptile with wings. "Nnngh…Ferdinand, go back to your bed…"

Ferdinand whimpered.

Harry blinked sleepily. "What is it?" Then he heard it. A loud rumble of thunder. "Oh, you're scared of the thunder?" He grinned. Baby dragons can be so cute.

Ferdinand didn't respond. He just stared back at Harry with those wide eyes that shone slightly in the dark, his head lowered as he sat there on Harry's bed.

Harry chuckled. "Oh, alright." He lifted the covers. "Come here. But no scratching."

The dragon eagerly went under the covers, before turning to face Harry, who was already asleep. He let out a soft whine before curling up, his head on Harry's stomach. He let out a rumbling purr, when Harry's hand reached up to pat his jaw.

…

Every dragon had his bad day. And Ferdinand was no different. While Harry was gone most of the day at Madam Malkin's, Ferdinand, to amuse himself, developed a game of chasing the house elves around while they worked. He would nip at their towels. Prodded them a bit. Sometimes even tackled them. He didn't hurt anyone…at least not seriously.

However, when Harry found out about his game, he was not happy. He didn't yell or anything. He just gave Ferdinand a _look._

And that was enough to send the dragon into long hours of moping. He didn't understand why Harry was disappointed with him. He was just playing. Yes, he did knock over a house elf and sent the bowls with scalding soup flying, but still…no one got hurt! But Ferdinand didn't like the look in Harry's eyes. He hated it even more that he was the one making Harry unhappy.

Ferdinand grew quickly. By six months, he could breathe fire. Harry had been careful to teach him not to burn every piece of furniture in the house. By twelve, he could fly, Harry encouraging him in stages – first spreading his wings, then swooping down from a tree branch, and then taking off from the ground. Each day, Harry nourished him, careful to keep him healthy. And finally, when Harry was convinced that Ferdinand could fly and take care of himself, he took his dragon to the cliffs of the mountains.

As they peered down into the abyss, Harry asked softly, "So, Ferdinand, are you ready for the real world?" He felt the dragon nuzzle his head against his shoulder, and Harry smiled, reaching up to scratch the side of Ferdinand's muzzle. "Fly, Ferdinand."

Understanding the command, Ferdinand spread his wings and dropped off the cliff, swooping in a wide arch before ascending into the air. He was a magnificent creature, an embodiment of Harry's care. With a wingspan of 25 feet and a length of thirty feet, the adolescent was almost adult size. His scales shone like white pearls and his eyes were like opals – the gems after which his species received its name.

Harry smiled as he watched his dragon do aerial maneuvers. There was a full ache in his chest. This was his dragon. He raised Ferdinand. And he loved the dragon. He was proud…and nostalgic. He could remember the day when Ferdinand hatched, the day when the dragon tore into his first bite of meat…But of course, he always knew the day would come when he would have to release his dragon into the wild. Dragons weren't meant to be domesticated. He took out small flute. He didn't really know how to play. He just remembered a specific tune to call Ferdinand from the air.

At his call, Ferdinand obeyed and descended from the air.

"I'm going to leave you here. I'm not abandoning you. I'm releasing you, understand?" Harry asked gently as he stared into Ferdinand's eyes. He smiled and began to walk away from the mountains. When Ferdinand attempted to follow him, Harry raised his hand. "No, Ferdinand. You stay here."

Ferdinand let out a throaty whine but obeyed.

Harry walked away, feeling somewhat empty inside. His chest ached. He'll visit of course. But it still felt as though he was leaving back a piece of himself.

Suddenly, he heard a long, drawn out screech from behind him. It sounded almost musical and so sad that Harry felt the ache inside him intensify. But he knew it was for the best. Now Ferdinand could live among his own kind.

…

When Harry stopped by Gringotts to pick up his account details after Madam Malkin closed shop, he never expected to pick up a familiar on the way. As he exited Gringotts, the streets of Diagon Alley were fairly empty as it was almost dark.

"We're going to have to euthanize her. She's too vicious."

Harry turned to the speaker to see a burly man talking to a witch with large black glasses outside the Magical Menagerie.

"Oh, give her a chance, Sir!"

"Madam, I have 24 people complaining to me about that creature!"

Curious as to what the fuss was all about, Harry snuck around the arguing adults into the open shop. Everything looked the same as it always did…except for the cage containing what seemed to be an 18 feet long king cobra. It appeared to be asleep. However, the moment Harry knelt down in front of the cage to study it, it shot up to its full height, hood opened and fangs extended, hissing furiously.

Startled, Harry jumped backwards from the snake.

_Stay away, Human. Unless you thirst for death!_

Harry blinked. _"Did I just understand what you just said?"_ he asked in shock.

The snake reared back in equal surprise. _You speak the tongue of snakes…_

Harry stared. _"Did you just understand what I just said?"_ he asked tentatively.

The snake let out a vicious hiss. _You better stay away, Human. I will bite whether you speak my tongue or not._

"_Geez, what's gotten under your scales?" _Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. _"And you might want to be careful, because they're thinking of killing you."_

_I would rather die than serve a human! All you humans are so predictable. Take me from my home and then expect me to cooperate! Then when I don't, kill me! Curse you all!_ She turned away from him. _I swear my revenge on the one who captured me._

_Wow…snake drama, _Harry thought.

_All you humans can go to hell. Who do you think you are? To treat every non-human creature as though it is beneath you? Did you think we are thoughtless, emotionless beings whose highest aspirations are to serve YOU?_

Harry frowned.

"Hey, you, get away from that snake!"

Harry turned to see the burly man approach him. The wheels in his mind spinning madly, he said, "I want to buy her." The man stopped, gaping. Harry could hear the snake behind him hissing angrily in protest.

The witch behind him clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Absolutely wonderful! She'll be a Knut."

"Hold on a second!" The man turned to Harry skeptically. "You're only a boy, and she's a king cobra. She could kill you in a heartbeat, boy."

Harry shrugged as he handed over a Knut to the witch. "It's a 50/50 chance. She either kills me or she doesn't."

"Boy, do you have a license? You can't own dangerous creatures without a license."

Harry blinked. A license? But he didn't have a license and he was technically the owner of several dragons…Suddenly something heavy appeared in his hand, surprising him. It was a metal, rectangular plate – _**License for the Ownership of Dangerous Specimens. **_The words underneath explained his qualifications…_Qualifications? _Harry blinked. He didn't know most of what the license said he did.

The man stared at him wide-eyed. "What the hell…? This is impossible. You're too young to have known how to do all this…_How can you be a qualified naturalist at this age?_"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. He was as clueless as the man. Harry certainly did not know how to tame a Cerberus! Or how to harvest Acromantula parts (Harry didn't even know what an Acromantula was!)! And he certainly did not know how to catch and tame a Runespoor!

However, the witch beamed at him. "See? He's more than qualified! He's got more qualifications than most naturalists and tamers have altogether!"

Harry didn't know how to respond.

The man was still skeptical. "Well…I'll tranquilize it for you just in case…And don't take her out of her cage. I'll check up on you every day to make sure nothing bad happens. And…"

Harry didn't know why he said what he said next. It was almost as though his instincts were kicking in. "Don't tranquilize her!" He then felt it. A feeling in his chest. He had to forge a relationship with the snake all on his own. With all the risks involved. No tranquilizers. No sedatives. As though the snake were another human being.

The man stared. "But…"

Harry picked up the cage by its handle. "Thanks for the advice, but I think I can take care of myself thanks." Why had he said that? He didn't know anything about snakes! However, he walked straight out of the shop, leaving the dumbfounded man behind him. The minute he stepped into the fireplace to go home, the man ran towards him.

"Wait! Let me at least help you…"

"Potter Manor." And the man's concerned face disappeared. Harry wasn't sure why he didn't accept the man's help. He just had the feeling that the man would be more of a hindrance than a help…

When he tumbled into his living room, he brushed the ash off his robes before calling, "Blinky!"

The elf appeared in front of him with a _crack!_ "Yes, Master Harry, sir?"

Harry put the cage down, ignoring the snake's threats, and indicated for Blinky to follow him into the study. "Blinky, what is this?" he asked immediately, showing the elf his license.

Blinky stared at it for a moment before grinning toothily up at Harry. "It's your license, Master Harry!"

"But I don't have all the qualifications it says I do! And I never remembered getting a license!"

Blinky shook his head. "_You _don't have to get the license, Sir. At least not physically. Anyone who inherits this estate automatically receives the license. Since you are the sole heir, you automatically have the license, Sir! It was to ensure that you'll be able to keep the creatures that have made their homes on this island."

"Isn't that dangerous? I mean…I don't have all the qualifications listed…"

"You will, Sir!" Blinky grinned. "You're a special case, Sir, but usually this doesn't happen. An heir would usually have all of the qualifications by the time he or she is of age – the same time that they inherit the estate. So usually the license is obtained by people with all the qualifications, Sir."

Harry paled.

"Don't worry, Master Harry, Sir!" Blinky said good-naturedly. "You'll learn everything soon!"

Harry felt a headache coming along.

…

Harry yawned. He did not have a good sleep. He had been busy worrying about the snake. What should he do with her? He didn't feel right releasing her with so much hate still left in her. He walked down the stairs towards where he left the cage. _"Good morning…"_ Harry said.

The cobra glared, its head lying on top of its coils. _It would be an even better morning if you had died._

Harry didn't reply. He already was starting to regret taking the snake home. She had been in a bad temper all evening. _"What do you want for breakfast?" _he asked coolly. _"Actually, don't answer…"_

_Your head on a platter._

Harry scoffed. He tried again, _"Mice? Lizards? Birds?"_ Harry received a glare for his troubles. Sighing, he pulled out a dead mouse and dropped it into the cobra's cage.

_It's not even alive…_

"_It would be cruel to do that. It would be filled with terror towards its inevitable death. It knows it will die. With no hope. That's cruel. At least, in the wild, it would have a chance to escape," _Harry replied. He yawned.

_It doesn't taste as good…_She grumbled.

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he entered the kitchen to make a cup of tea before returning. He sometimes skipped breakfast mainly because it felt heavy on his stomach. He sat down next to the snake, who had swallowed the mouse whole. _"So what do you normally eat?"_

_Ratsnakes._

_Oh, _Harry thought. _"Oh…uh…sorry about that…"_

_Don't bother, you lying bastard. Apologizing is just another way for you humans to lie. _She turned from him and laid her head down on the floor of her cage. _If you're sorry, leave. You make me sick._

Harry stood up. He was completely clueless as to how to deal with this. He went upstairs to his bedroom when a snowy owl swooped through his open window. It landed on his shoulder and raised its leg. Harry thought it was a bit weird for someone else's owl to rub against his cheek almost affectionately, but he didn't comment, taking the letter and package off the owl's leg.

_Harry,_

_My apologies that I am not able to visit today. However, the other day, I saw this owl from Eeylops Owl Emporium, and for some reason, I thought of you. Consider it an early birthday present from your future headmaster. _

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I think you should have your father's cloak as well. He left it with me before he died. It's time that it's returned to you._

Harry couldn't help but smile. He petted the owl before opening the parcel. Inside was a beautiful cloak made of a shimmering fabric. He put it on and was delighted to find that it was an invisibility cloak. "This is…so cool." Harry turned to his owl. "Isn't it…uh…? Do you have a name?"

It shook its feathers. An obvious 'no.'

Harry petted its head. "I think I'll name you Hedwig. She was a witch I read about last weekend. I like her name."

Hedwig ducked her head, accepting her new name.

Harry smiled. "I'll stop by Eeylops to buy you some owl treats later, alright?" _And a stand. _He let her out through the window which she had entered. Then he went to the library to learn how to harvest Acromantula parts.

…

Days passed in the same pattern. Harry would occasionally feed his snake, trying to make conversation with her before giving up due to her aggressiveness and going about doing his own business. One day, however, after a particularly frustrating attempt, Harry finally called his trusted elf. "Blinky?"

The elf appeared with a _crack! _"Yes, Master Harry, Sir?"

"What is…the snake downstairs doing right now?" Harry felt awkward calling her 'the snake.' Maybe he'll ask for her name later on.

Blinky frowned. "She's trying to escape, Sir."

Harry gaped. "But she can't…"

"She won't stop trying, Sir. She's been at it all night, Sir." Blinky paused before adding, "She's hurting herself in the process, Sir. Blinky tried to stop her, but she won't listen."

Harry frowned before putting on his invisibility cloak and going downstairs. She won't do anything if she knew he was there. He froze when he saw what she was doing. Like Blinky said, she was trying to escape…in vain. She threw herself against the cage again and again. Harry could see the pain and frustration in her eyes each time she strike the cage and nothing happens. It was almost pitiful. He approached the front of her cage.

After a while, she finally stopped. She swayed slightly as though dizzy before falling forwards onto the floor of her cage. She turned her head away from him. _Foolish human, I can smell you there. _

Harry jumped in surprise. He didn't expect her to realize he was there. He slipped off his invisibility cloak and sat down in front of her cage. All the fight seemed to have left the exhausted snake. If snakes could cry, Harry was almost certain that this one would be sobbing at the moment. Her eyes seemed almost lifeless.

_Are you here to laugh at my pain and misery? How helpless I am in your power? _The snake seemed to sigh before saying miserably, _Please...just kill me already. _

Harry stared. _"How long have you been in captivity?"_

_I don't know. Three years, I think. Might have been longer._

"_You haven't given up for that long?"_

_No._

"_Why now?"_

_Because sooner or later, I'll have to face the truth. I'll never be free. Not until the day I die._

Seeing the crushed spirit of the once fierce snake made Harry's chest ache strangely. He left her alone for the rest of the day. That night, all he could think about when leaning against the edge of his balcony was the snake. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to release her because she seemed so…_spiteful. _And he wouldn't feel right releasing anything with so much hate into the world. _But why is she so hateful? _asked a sly voice in his head.

Harry frowned. _Because she believed that all humans don't think of her as anything more than…a thing. _

_Keeping her caged would make her feel that way._

_But releasing her would be bad, too! She would kill me and probably any human she sees. _

_It's a tug-o-war that will end in a stalemate unless someone gives. _

Harry closed his eyes. He knew the voice was right.

…

_What madness is this, boy?!_

"_I'm setting you free. Isn't that what you always wanted?" _Harry panted as he carried the snake cage several miles away from the manor. The snake was heavy. He finally put the cage down and sat beside it. He smiled tiredly when the snake was staring at him in disbelief. _"Isn't it? Because, you know, I would be flattered if you want to continue living with me."_

The cobra continued to stare at him.

Harry rolled his eyes. _"Lighten up!" _he said, forcing his tone to sound playful. He reached forward to open the latch on the cage. He swallowed nervously, trying to hide his fear. However, his trembling hands gave him away. This was an angry, venomous snake he was letting out of its cage – and he had taken no precautions. Which he had to admit was stupid. Even for him.

However, the snake didn't comment on his nervousness.

Harry opened the latch.

The snake appeared dumbfounded for a moment before slithering out of its cage, slowly – as though disbelieving. Then, she rose up to her full height, her mouth opened wide in a terrifying display of fangs and forked tongue.

Harry let out a cry of shock, falling backwards away from her. Was this a mistake? The snake towered over him, hissing and glaring. He didn't even have time to react when she strike. She was quick. He shut his eyes and felt a rush of wind by his right ear. He turned around to see that she…missed?

_I won't kill you, human. Only because I'm grateful that you let me free. _With that, she turned and slithered away.

Harry stared until her tail disappeared into the forest. Then he smiled. _If a wizard and that snake went against each other in mortal combat, with no cage or wand, she would beat him within seconds. _Due to convenience, Harry visited Riley's grave as soon as he got his bearings back.

"You know, Riley, a lot of things happened the last few months. I released a king cobra today. She didn't really seem to like living with me, so I let her go. I think you'd approve." Harry touched the tombstone. "I miss you."

Harry closed his eyes. "But I have never been happier, Riley, in my life. I comforted a mother dragon in her last moments. I helped raise her son. I've never been happier. Not everything has been easy. But still I'm happy. It's like…having the sun in my chest."

The wind was starting to blow. Was a storm coming? Harry ignored it.

"I know this will sound really weird coming from me. I mean, I'm not even ten, yet. I will be…soon though. But I think I want to…" Harry paused, trying to find the right words. "I want to dedicate my life for others. Sounds weird, doesn't it? But really…everything that I do for others makes me happy…"

The wind blew harder. Harry shivered. "It's really strange, Riley. It's like a sad ache inside me. But it makes me happy, too. Bittersweet."

Suddenly a bright light lit up the entire field, filling the air with a warm glow.

Harry heard a…sound – not exactly with his ears but inside him. It was musical, and it filled him with…peace. He looked up. A large red bird was perching on his shoulder. Its red feathers seemed to glow, and the golden tips of its wings and tail seemed to glitter. Although large, its weight was comfortable. Harry recognized the creature immediately. "Hello," he greeted softly in awe.

The phoenix peered at him, and the two stayed in that position for a while before Harry spoke.

"So what brings you here?"

It didn't reply. Instead, it rubbed its head against Harry's cheek.

Harry closed his eyes. _Riley, some of the ache disappeared. _Harry smiled as he ran his fingers through the phoenix's feathers. "Aurora. You bring light to some of my darkness." With that, Harry walked home with a phoenix perched on his shoulder.

When he reached the Manor, he froze. On the top step of the stairs leading to the doorway, a large king cobra was waiting for him, reared up to full height. "Are you here to kill me?" Harry asked, finally finding his voice.

The snake grabbed something in its mouth before slithering towards Harry. She dropped it into Harry's hand.

Harry blinked. It was a dead rat.

_I have to admit. I'm a bit tired of solidarity. I've had time to think about it. I like you. Someone who has given me my freedom can't be bad. I'm not so…ignorant as to let go of an opportunity to bond with someone so kind. There are so few of them among both men and animal. _She bowed her head.

Harry's lips twitched. _"You're not…er…expecting me to eat this, do you?"_ he asked, glancing at the rat.

The snake snorted, and its reply sounded amused – something Harry had never heard from her before. _If you really want to, go ahead._

Harry's face reddened before he understood. He held the rat out in his palm, and the snake lowered her head onto his palm, beginning to swallow the rat whole. _"Sasha." _It was like a ceremony. He was feeding her. Her head was in his hand. Master and familiar. _"I thought you wanted to be free."_

_I am._

**Author's Note: I always had a theory about the domestication of phoenixes in Harry Potter. I believed that phoenixes choose their masters and never the other way around. And they would choose those who are good and pure of heart – in the most extreme definitions of those terms. But anyway, do tell me if I'm going overboard with anything in my story. I'm not very good at detecting that kind of thing.**

**Please review.**


	6. Chapter 6

"_There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root.__"_

_-Henry David Thoreau_

Chapter Six: Meetings at Madam Malkin's

Harry knew it was coming. It happened every year ever since he began to work at Madam Malkin's. The Hogwarts letters had been sent out just the day before – he had gotten one himself. And of course, that resulted in an influx of rising Hogwarts students to Madam Malkin's shop to buy their robes. So of course, Harry was prepared. After years of working in the shop, Harry was very proficient – not only in robes but also with people. Indeed, Madam Malkin would be hard pressed to find a more charismatic helper.

"Um…hello?"

Harry turned to see a nervous looking boy staring at him. "Can I help you - ?"

"Justin." The boy replied promptly. "Justin Finch-Fletchley."

Harry smiled. "Can I help you, Master Justin?"

Justin nodded. Coughing to clear his throat, he said, "I need robes for Hogwarts. But…um…I'm not really from a Wizarding family, so I don't really know how to…um…"

"No worries. That's what I'm here for." Harry motioned for Justin to step in front of a mirror. Immediately, a measuring tape began to measure Justin's arms, chest, legs, torso, and anything else it can reach. Harry already had a quill in hand and was writing down the measurements. Harry laughed when Justin slapped the tape away from measuring the distance between his eyes. "It can be a bit too enthusiastic."

"No kidding. But it's really cool though!"

Harry let out another laugh at Justin's awestruck expression – he remembered when _he_ had that expression on his face. "So you're Muggle-born?"

Justin nodded. "My mum had qualms about letting me go to Hogwarts, but I'd rather go train as a wizard than go to Eton."

Harry whistled. "Eton? Your family must be pretty well off." He skimmed the measurements. "I'll be back with the full requirements – three sets of work robes, a pointed hat, protective gloves, and a winter cloak. Any extras you want – cloaks, robes, scarves?"

"Any that you recommend?" Justin asked.

Harry tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think an extra set would be good." He winked. "Just in case someone forgets to put their clothes in the laundry. Or lose them. Or have them stolen." He laughed when Justin immediately asked for two extra sets. "I'll be right back." He left and came back to find Justin busy admiring himself in front of the mirror with dress robes on.

"Mom, aren't these robes so cool?" Justin was saying to his mom.

"Well…you do look rather dashing," his mother replied, giving him a loving look.

Harry smiled. "Would you like a set of dress robes, too, Master Justin?" He set down the bags of clothes next to Justin. "Although maroon silk does look good on you, Master Justin, I think navy blue velvet would be a better choice. But of course, that's just my humble opinion. What do I know about clothes?"

Justin grinned. "Can I try on some?" He turned to his mom. "He's really good, Mom! It's like he was borne for this!"

Harry bowed slightly. "Welcome to Madam Malkin's, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley." Seeing her questioning look, he supplied, "Harry. Harry Potter, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley. I'm Madam Malkin's apprentice." He was glad the woman was muggle because she didn't react to his name.

She nodded. "It's good to see such nice people in the Wizarding world." She smiled nervously. "Do you go to Hogwarts by any chance?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. It will be my first year, too."

"That's good." She appeared relieved. "We're not a wizard family, so it calms me that he'll have friends before he goes to school. That he'll fit in."

Harry smiled. "He'll be fine. Many muggleborns go to Hogwarts." He glanced at Justin, who was struggling with navy blue dress robes. Harry hurried over to help him put it on. Harry stood back, grinning smugly. "Now that's what I call a perfect match."

Justin twirled around. "Wow!" He stared at his reflection. "Navy blue really does look good on me. Can I have a set, Mom? Pleeeeeeaaaasssseee!"

His mom turned to Harry.

Harry chuckled. Then he said to Justin patiently, "You really don't need one at this point in time. Formal parties and those things really don't happen until you're in your third or fourth year at Hogwarts. You'll grow by then. It's best to get dress robes when you need them because they're really expensive. But of course, I won't stop you from buying them if you really to."

Justin deflated, disappointed.

Harry frowned. Then he disappeared behind the racks before reappearing with three scarves. "Do you know the four Hogwarts Houses, Master Justin?"

He shook his head, curious now.

"Hogwarts has four Houses. Gryffindor. Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw. Slytherin," Harry explained. "Each has its own colors and emblem." He gestured to the scarves. "They're grey now, but once you've gotten sorted into your House, they'll have your House's colors and emblem." He dropped them into Justin's arms and grinned. "Only three galleons."

Justin's face lit up, as it always did whenever magic came into play. He was practically bouncing when he asked his mom to buy the scarves.

Harry felt quite good about himself. After directing the duo to Flourish and Blotts for their books, he moved on to the next customer. "Can I help you?" he asked a couple. _Muggles, _he immediately noted from their clothes and nervous-looking expressions.

They turned around, and their daughter immediately approached him, surprising him. "I need robes for Hogwarts," she said bossily.

Harry blinked, surprised at the straightforwardness of the girl. However, he had a feeling that she was only covering up her own nervousness. He smiled. "Please. Over here, Miss…uh…"

"Hermione Granger," she replied promptly, stepping forward in front of the mirror.

"Let me just take your measurements, Miss Hermione. How is Diagon Alley so far?" Harry asked as he wrote down her measurements.

"It's been absolutely delightful! We went to buy books first, and I wanted to buy the entire store! There's so much to learn! And I feel like I'm behind everyone since, well, I'm muggleborn. I didn't even know I was a witch until I got my letter. My parents were so shocked but pleased. It explained the weird things that have been happening around me, you know…" she trailed off. "Oh, sorry…I talk a lot." She flushed.

Harry chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I like listening. You're cute like that. I'll be right back, Miss Hermione." He left and returned promptly with the required sets of clothes. "I have some extras in there if you want. It's recommended that you buy extra sets." He paused thoughtfully before offering, "My family has an entire library of books. If you want to borrow some, I can send some over."

Hermione stared at him wide-eyed, speechless. "Really? That's so generous of you!" Then, for the first time since she entered the shop, she appeared shy as she asked tentatively, "I don't want to be a bother, but do you by any chance have _Hogwarts, A History?_"

Harry smiled. "I do. It's a good read. It'll tell you a lot about the place before you even go there." He handed her the bags and said, "29 Galleons, 13 Sickles, and 13 Knuts please. I'll send you the book later, Miss Hermione." He took the money from Mr. Granger. "Thank you, Sir." As they left, Harry heard Mr. Granger say to his daughter, "I can't believe you got that boy into your book obsession," and laughed.

…

"Straighten up, Draco. Chin up as well," Lucius said to his son quietly so that no one would hear them.

"Yes, Father." Draco straightened his back and lifted his chin. It was uncomfortable – not physically per se, but because he was in a mass of strangers. He didn't really know anyone. The only people his age that he had ever befriended were Crabbe and Goyle. And they weren't there. Even if they were a thickheaded bunch, it would have been comforting had they been there. Rather than him going shopping alone. Not that he would ever tell his father that. No, he would make his father proud.

"I'll see to buying you a broom. Go see yourself fitted at Madam Malkin's."

"Yes, Father." However, Draco still hesitated to separate from his father. Taking a deep breath, he entered the shop. He looked around for Madam Malkin but found her busy with two other customers. Instead, he was greeted by a boy about his age.

"Hello!" he said cheerfully. "Welcome to Madam Malkin's! Can I help you?"

There was a silence. Draco blinked. "What's with your hair?" he blurted out.

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Your hair," Draco said imperiously. "Don't you brush it?"

Harry stared before he burst out in laughter.

Offended, Draco bristled. It was a legitimate question. How dare this…this…this _peasant _laugh at him?! Wait until his father hears about this! This boy will wish he didn't laugh. Plus, it was entirely unbecoming of him to laugh. You do not laugh in a business setting! Especially not at your patron!

Harry stopped laughing when he saw the look on Draco's face. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"You're laughing at me!" Draco huffed. The accusation sounded childish even to him. But he couldn't stop himself. No one had ever _laughed _at him before.

Harry raised an eyebrow before smiling. "I'm not laughing at you…uh…"

"Draco Malfoy," Draco drawled importantly.

"I'm not laughing at you, Master Draco," Harry said, trying to placate the indignant boy. "It's just that, well, it's been a while since someone pointed that out to me – something so obvious. You're the first in a while to have been so frank. It took me by surprise is all."

"Oh…" Draco was speechless for a second. Then he coughed. "Anyway, I need robes for Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts, too?" Harry asked brightly. "Everyone's been asking for Hogwarts robes today. If you would come here, Master Draco." He led Draco in front of a mirror. The measuring tape immediately sprang up to measure Draco's arms.

"Are you going to Hogwarts?" Draco drawled, trying to ignore the measuring tape.

"Yep. First year." Harry grinned. "I can tell you are, too."

Draco nodded. He was starting to like this boy. Much smarter than Crabbe and Goyle, and probably made better conversation, too. Even if he were a peasant working in a shop in Diagon Alley. "Mother's looking at wands, and Father's off to look at broomsticks. I think I'll bully him into buying me one," he drawled, hoping to impress the boy.

Flinching, Harry almost dropped his quill and parchment. Draco sounded so much like…Dudley that it nearly sent Harry running – had Harry been working on pure instincts. Forcing a smile on his face when Draco gave him a weird look, Harry resumed recording Draco's measurements with trembling hands. "Sorry. My hand slipped." He didn't really like the boy, but well, he was a customer…

Draco again launched into his self-important rant. "My father said it would be a _crime_ if I'm not selected to play for my House team. I think that rule is stupid – don't you? – that first years aren't allowed their own broomsticks. I've been practicing at home though. Do you play Quidditch?" He hoped the boy played Quidditch. It just wouldn't be fun if he didn't. Crabbe and Goyle didn't, and that made them just boring in Draco's eyes.

Harry's eyes lit up. "I never had anyone to play it with. I do fly though."

Draco almost let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. "Planning on trying for the House team?" He didn't wait for Harry's answer but instead launch into another speech. "My family's always been in Slytherin. I'm pretty sure I'll be in it, too. Imagine if I am sorted into Hufflepuff." He shivered, causing the measuring tape to smack him upside the head for moving in the middle of a measurement. "Ow, you stupid thing!" He glared at it until the tape went back to its business. "Anyway, I think I would leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry was still laughing from the incident with the measuring tape when he was asked the question. "I don't think Hufflepuff would be too bad. The characteristics that define the House are loyalty and - "

"- completely stupid," Draco interrupted him. "Why would you want to be loyal instead of clever? That sort of thinking would just get you killed."

Harry frowned. "But wouldn't you want to protect those you love? Wouldn't you protect your parents if it costs you your life?"

Draco huffed. "That's different. They're my _parents._"

"It's still loyalty," Harry reminded him slyly. "Just loyalty under the guise of a different word – _fidelity_. Same thing."

Draco huffed indignantly before replying grudgingly, "Fine…But I still don't want to end up in that House."

There was a silence, and Draco wondered if he had offended his potential friend. "Do you know what House you'll end up in?" he asked, hoping to smooth things over. He just hoped the boy wouldn't say 'Hufflepuff.' Or 'Gryffindor' for that matter.

Harry shrugged. "All my family has been in Gryffindor. I'll probably end up there, too."

Draco recoiled as though slapped. "You're a _Gryffindor_?" he snarled in disgust. There went the potentiality of friendship.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"That House is full of blood traitors!" Draco almost shouted. But of course…Malfoys don't shout.

_Ah…_Harry smirked and stepped closer to Draco, who stepped back away from him as though afraid that Harry would contaminate him with his Gryffindorkness. Harry poked Draco in the forehead, almost playfully, making Draco wince. "And Slytherin has a reputation for being full of Dark Wizards."

Draco blinked. Crabbe and Goyle could definitely not have made this intelligent of a conversation. Did the boy just return a _comeback? _He placed a hand to his forehead. "You cretin! Don't poke me like that!"

Harry chuckled. Despite being somewhat unpleasant, Draco can be…amusing. "Oh, lighten up, future Prince of Slytherin," Harry replied, smirking.

Draco's lips twitched. _Prince of Slytherin. _Draco liked the name of that. "Malfoys do not 'lighten up'! Especially not when a Gryffindor pokes them in the forehead with no respect for their personal space!" he huffed, glaring at Harry.

Harry smiled placatingly before putting his hands up in surrender. "Oh, alright, alright…I'm sorry, Master Draco. I'm a cretin. What do you expect from a commoner?"

To Draco's and Harry's surprise, Harry's response actually pulled a snort from Draco, who immediately turned red in embarrassment. It was so unbecoming of a Malfoy! And it only adds to the embarrassment when Harry laughed. "Stop laughing at me!" When Harry seemed deaf to his request, in anger, Draco shoved Harry backwards with all his strength.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise when he crashed into the mirror behind him. The mirror toppled backwards with him and shattered when Harry fell onto it on the floor.

"Draco!"

Draco turned to see his father standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and staring disbelievingly at his son. He turned and saw all the shop's customers gawking at him. Madam Malkin was staring at him, open-mouthed, her parchment and quill dropped on the floor. All his anger left him within a moment. He wanted to tell everyone that it was an accident. He didn't mean to hurt anyone…

"I'm sorry, Master Draco. If I had offended you."

Draco spun around to see Harry struggling to sit up.

Harry wasn't looking at Draco. He was looking at his shoes.

Draco swallowed when a trickle of blood could be seen running down the side of Harry's head. He had never been fond of blood. "I…" He didn't know what to say.

"It's fine."

Draco felt his father's arm around him. "Draco, come." Draco didn't protest. He turned to have one last glance at the boy and saw that Madam Malkin had already rushed to his side to help him. He didn't even know the boy's name. Guilt rushed through him. He hadn't meant to hurt the boy. He was just angry that the boy was laughing at him. It had been an accident…But it was the boy's fault in the first place! For laughing at him! The thought didn't assuage the guilt though…Draco felt terrible. The boy wasn't bad company, despite him being a soon-to-be Gryffindor. Maybe, maybe he wouldn't even be sorted in Gryffindor. Maybe he would have been sorted in Slytherin. They could have been friends! "Father…I didn't mean to push him…"

Lucius sighed before saying through clenched teeth, "Next time, control your temper, Draco. You were in public."

…

Harry winced. It was giving him a headache just walking. Madam Malkin had even closed her shop early to help Harry with his wounds. Harry collapsed onto one of his armchairs. He didn't know he would push Draco too far. He was just trying to relax him.

Harry glanced at the bags he had taken home. Some of the robes were for him. But some were for Draco – Harry still had his measurements. Harry didn't like the idea of leaving a customer empty-handed…and angry. Harry rubbed his temple. "Holly?"

A young house elf came at his call immediately. "Yes, Master Harry, Sir?"

"Before I forget, can you grab _Hogwarts, A History _from the library? And a parchment and quill?"

"Yes, Sir!" Holly was gone and back before long.

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully. He wrote a quick note on the parchment:

_Hermione,_

_Here is Hogwarts, A History as promised. Just return it when school starts. I'll see you then. Enjoy!_

_Harry Potter_

"Hedwig!" he called. When she swooped down onto his arm, Harry tied the letter and the package containing _Hogwarts, A History _to her leg. "Deliver this to Hermione Granger, alright, girl? Here's a treat for good luck." He smiled and offered her an owl treat.

She hooted her thanks, took it, and flew out an open window.

Harry saw her off before sighing. Now, the bigger problem…

…

Draco moped in his room for a long time. Why did he have to lose his temper? His father was unhappy with him because he made him lose face in public. And he lost a potential friend, too! Someone who liked flying and Quidditch! And can have an intelligent conversation with him!

"Master Draco, Sir…"

"What is it?" Draco snapped at the fearful house elf. "Can you not see that I don't want to be disturbed?"

"But, Sir, someone wants to see you downstairs…"

"This had better be important!" Draco snarled and stomped out of his room. If it was Crabbe or Goyle, he was going to use them as punching bags or something…He took a deep breath. He didn't want to lose face again – if the person turned out to be of some importance. He took several more breaths before calmly walking towards the front door. When he neared the door, he froze in shock before he blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably before gesturing to the bags of robes on the floor. "Peace offering?" he asked tentatively.

Draco blinked. The boy looked even more ridiculous than he did in the robes shop. His head was bandaged up, and Draco could see one of his hands was bound, too. His hair was even messier than it was in the shop. And he was still in his work robes! However, all that came out of Draco's mouth was "You came all the way here for _that_?"

Harry winced. "Well…I did have your measurements…" He shifted awkwardly before continuing, "Um…anyway, I just want to say sorry for what happened today. I didn't know you would get so upset…"

"I was not upset," Draco protested indignantly.

Harry's lips twitched. "Oh, alright…" Harry pacified. "Angry then."

Draco frowned. He felt that in this case, he was more to blame than the other was. The only thing holding him back from apologizing was his pride. _Oh, well, he already apologized, _Draco reasoned. _No need for me to, too. _"I forgive you," Draco replied imperiously.

Harry held out his hand. "35 galleons, 12 sickles, 5 knuts." He smirked. "You didn't think the peace offering was free, did you?"

Draco glared. "You're an ass."

"I know. And I'm a pretty darn good one, carrying everything to your front door."

Draco blinked before he let out a snort of laughter. He turned red again at the undignified sound, expecting Harry to laugh, before realizing that this time, Harry was not laughing at him. He looked up at him.

Harry smiled. "You know – you don't look half unpleasant as you usually do when you laugh. A smile looks good on you, Malfoy." After a silence, he prompted again, "C'mon, cough up. Madam Malkin would kill me if I just give you all these for free." Of course, she wouldn't, but Harry would feel guilty – it was like stealing from the shop.

Draco glared at him again before counting out the money and handing it over in a small pouch.

"Thank you," Harry said, slipping it into the pocket of his robe.

"Draco, who is this?"

Draco turned around to see his father glaring daggers at Harry. He didn't know why though – he was pretty sure his father had never met the boy before. "Father, he's the apprentice at Madam Malkin's. He's just here to deliver the robes…" Draco turned questioning eyes towards Harry. "Who are you anyway?"

Before Harry could answer, Lucius snarled, "Get out. Now."

Startled, Harry started for the door. Before he left, he caught snippets of the conversation between father and son.

"Father, what's wrong?" Draco asked, shocked at his father's anger, which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"I would recognize that face anywhere," Lucius snarled. "Looks just like his father…I can't believe you let a half-blood on our property, Draco! I didn't see his face earlier today, but…a half-blood on our property! Our property!"

Harry closed the door quietly behind him. He looked up at the sky. It was getting dark. He wondered if Draco would stop smiling now that he realized the person who told him that he should was no more than a half-blood. Harry didn't lie. Draco should smile more often.

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